Recollection
by bunnytales
Summary: Memory is not enough.
1. Chapter 1: Gunter

1\. Gunter

It was a Tuesday. Any Tuesday, not like there was anything about it. A bright and placid morning, full of normal things. No drug dealers or gangsters to trick, no body cooling under a sheet, no crime scene and not even any magic. But there it was, further away with each new week yet still bright, still placid, staring at them from the past. No matter how many Tuesdays came and went since, that one remained. Like everything had just…stopped there.

He reached up to swipe a drop of sweat from his cheek and then hunched back over the soldering iron. Molten alloy flowed between the clamped workpieces. He straightened and blinked. Done. And at once the itch came back, flowing into his joints like melted metal. He needed something to do, something to do…he'd clean up and put away the tools and maybe polish the hinges on that old chest to take away the creak…. Or he'd done that already, time to find something else-

Turning, he spied the old poster. There was a ladder in front of it, a stack of boxes hiding part of the face. Dina had wanted to take it down, then snapped at him when he tried, and now it was just back there on the wall behind newer and newer things. Its eyes, frozen in a moment, looked out at him.

He snarled and threw the soldering iron against the near wall. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Ah, Cam, I wish we could've found you."

To be continued

Note: When I started watching Deception I knew it was a breath of fresh air in a largely stale TV wasteland. ABC's habit of cutting fledgling shows before they find an audience is disappointing! So I've signed the petition and emailed ABC. I've also emailed and written snail mail to NBC, which had the foresight to pick up Brooklyn 99 and may recognize the potential in this gem of a show. There is a cast of actors all ready to go, and they've literally learned magic to make it work. Deception has more potential than most of stuff that's out there, so I'm not giving up on it!


	2. Chapter 2: Dina

2\. Dina

"No, Sweetheart, we haven't made any firm decisions yet. I know – me too. You stay safe." Dina nodded at Jonathan's murmured reply and listened to the click as he hung up. The moments after their daily call were always hardest, picturing him turning away from the row of guarded phones, back to his cell or the common area or wherever he went. He could go to his workspace, the drab walls hanging with codes and clues to the Mystery Woman's plans, but she suspected he wasn't spending much time there anymore.

Jordan darted in and parked himself in front of his laptop. His fingers danced over the keys.

"What's up?" she asked, grabbing her mug from the shelf and moving to settle in a nearby chair. The tea had gone cold but she continued to sip it.

"Not much," Jordan shrugged with only a glance in her direction. "David Blaine reached out – he's looking for some people and…." He shrugged again.

Dina blinked. "Jordan…that's terrific. Really," she smiled. "He'd be lucky to have you…and Gunter?"

"Oh yeah," Jordan grinned. "Gunter and I are kind of a package deal.

"So, uh, have you signed anything yet?"

"No, I mean we've only been texting so far and he's expressed interest and we've expressed interest and…."

"Right."

"And I know you and Jonathan have been talking about maybe selling this place-"

Dina raised her hand. "No, we're not making any commitments yet. Jonathan was just thinking about the upkeep, the property taxes and all that. We're fine here, Darling, so I don't want you feeling any pressure."

Jordan pushed away from the table and faced her. "You think it's too soon?"

"I…I can't say. But you aren't working. None of us are." Dina sighed and let her eyes wander over the dark walls, the props and costumes and memorabilia. The cluttered rooms never changed. She could remember laughter echoing in the hallway, Gunter grousing about Jordan's work ethic, Jonathan and Cameron bantering as they worked out new acts. But nothing seemed to move there now. She looked back to Jordan. "You have to do something," she said. "Otherwise you're just stuck here in the past."

His curious look softened and Jordan leaned forward, reached out to touch her knee. "We're not stuck here. We're just…regrouping and figuring out what to do next."

That made sense, and Dina suddenly felt lighter than she had all morning.

To be continued

Note: Slow start (and short chapters so far), but I hope to update again over the weekend. Still have my fingers crossed that NBC or FOX or some other daring venue decides to pick up Deception and give it a season 2! If decisions are made based on positive feedback, I think there's a shot. Plus, with any luck all the viewers tune in to the next episode live, stream it on all their devices, and push those ratings UP! ABC would notice that, at least.

Thanks to all for reading and I promise this little story will pick up a bit soon.


	3. Chapter 3: Jonathan

3\. Jonathan

They filed into the mess hall in a bored line. The guards stood erect in their usual spots, but he could tell they were bored too. The day shift would be ending in a couple of hours, fresh-faced afternoon replacements taking up their duty posts and then, later, being themselves replaced by the graveyard crew. Wash, rinse, repeat.

Jonathan shuffled wordlessly past the servers, half paying attention to the muck they dropped onto his plate and the smells that inundated him. Bleach that did nothing to brighten the grey floors, sweat and cigarette smoke oozing from his fellow inmates, grease from the kitchen and the slightly rancid whiff of whatever he was about to eat. His mind lingered on Dina's voice and the cheer she'd clung to so ferociously when he asked if she'd talked to any real estate agents yet. Odd that between the two of them she was the one refusing to move, planting her feet and her flag in that Archive and holding the world at bay.

"I guess I'm just part of the world now," he murmured, earning a quizzical glance from the guy ahead of him.

He planted himself at the end of a table, ignoring the men beside and before him. There was a sandwich on his plate – probably bologna. Lukewarm peas and cubed carrots crowded up against it. Jonathan let his eyes drift across the hall to the high windows. He was tired but felt a low thrum in his bones, his muscles wanting to flex and strain. He balled his hands into fists in his lap and thought of her, waiting in those dark rooms with their debris and memories.

Another face crowded into his mind and he felt his lip curl. Oh-so-special Agent Daniels. The one who _cared_ for his brother, the one Cam had talked about with something just shy of hero worship (maybe a crush) and who had held all their fragile hopes in her special little hands. She had called that Tuesday afternoon and asked if he'd spoken with Cameron, if he knew his brother's plans for the day (he hadn't – why dwell too much on the minutiae of freedom while in here?). She had come by the next morning, an interminable wait, and had looked at him kindly.

There was a clatter down the way, the sounds of an argument and the voice of a guard telling inmates to knock it off. Jonathan stared at the windows and remembered the agent's concerned eyes (she was tired) and the way her fingers smoothed down the edge of the map he'd had spread out in front of him. _Cameron is missing, Jonathan. He told Gunter he was going out for coffee. He walked out the door yesterday morning and hasn't been seen since._ (His cell? Jonathan had immediately thought-) _His cell is turned off and we can't locate it._ (That coffee place he likes, with the barista who calls him Houdini?) _He never made it there, if that's where he was going…._

 _If that's where he was going._ He had _said_ he was going for coffee, hadn't he, and he always went _there_. Typical, typical – the fed didn't even trust Cam. She thought he'd been lying about where he was headed, maybe up to something. Typical.

Daniels had talked about the search, the intersection cameras and surveillance footage around the Archive, the canvas of their neighborhood, and he had hung on her words with pathetic hope. Of _course_ Cam was their "top priority." Of course they would put all their resources into it. And he had gone back to his cell and clutched his pillow to his chest and waited for news that never came.

And now he was bored, and restless, and he watched as the guards sent one of the arguing inmates off with a shove and told the other to sit down and stop causing trouble.

Maybe that's why Dina still couldn't move on, almost a year after that morning – she was surrounded by all those pieces of _him_. And maybe that's why he'd pushed her to talk to someone – _Just call a realtor, D, let them do all the work. Call a moving service to put all the stuff in storage –_ even as she tried to laugh it off, talk about something else. Because he was in here with bare walls and nothing that mattered, and he could so easily not think and not feel and shuffle through his days without sinking into a pit. But if that place was still the same, still filled with the props and pictures and pieces of someone who was…how could he face that when he got out?

Jonathan bit into his tasteless sandwich and listened to the sounds of cutlery scraping against plastic, low conversations and occasional laughter. He felt like laughing himself. After all the mental energy he had poured into MW and her frame job, now the prison she had put him in felt safer than the reality waiting out there.

To be continued

Note: Another short one but the plot is starting to come together for me so I may get some momentum going. Thank you so much to all who have read and reviewed so far! I just left more fb for ABC as well...telling them how awesome the latest episode was (and that they really should just go ahead and sign it for the next 3 seasons...just to save us all the hassle of doing this again next year).


	4. Chapter 4: Jordan

4\. Jordan

Scrolling through his texts, Jordan re-read the latest from David. Gunter had nodded approvingly at the idea of a meet. David was going to be in the city in a few days and they could grab a coffee and chat. Sounded good. He seemed genuine and honestly interested, and he'd been gentle with his overtures, respectful of their…loss. It would be good to work again, to tour again, to be part of something.

"Gunter needs it," he sighed, rationalizing with himself. "Gunter needs this and I go with Gunter." Yep.

Maybe he needed it too.

He felt a surge of irritation. His thumb hovered over the trash icon for a long moment before he sighed again and checked out what was trending on Twitter instead. He scanned the hashtags mindlessly, bobbing like a buoy on the waves of popularity, until one stopped him cold.

...

"Gunter! Dina!" Jordan pivoted to his laptop and fumbled over the keys, finally bringing up the site. It was a collection of celebrity gossip columns and the musings of self-styled entertainment critics. Front and centre was a video, one of those sad, cheesy montages of celebrity lives snuffed out in the last year. The music dripped sympathy, rising and falling as faces faded in and out. A few he recognized, but most were strangers that might as well have been the guy down the street. Movie producers, set designers, agents….

Dina hurried in. "What is it?" she demanded.

"Get Gunter."

At that moment Gunter entered as well, wiping his hands on a rag. "What? I was in the middle of-"

Jordan cut him off with a look. "Watch this." As they leaned in to peer at the screen over his shoulder, he played the video again and felt bile rise in his throat.

...

To be continued

Note: Sincere thanks to all who have read/reviewed – I appreciate it! In reply to Guest, yes I have signed every petition I can find to save Deception and have rated it everywhere. I've emailed the networks and offered fb that lists reasons this show is terrific (largely good clean fun rather than standard violence, smart writing, dynamic cast…and magic!) and how much potential it has. Also, how the actors have brought a lot of skill into it – those card tricks etc can't have been easy to learn – and how much more they can do. And of course, the potential in the story (the twins' childhood, family secrets, the Mystery Woman, etc). I'm writing more snail mail to networks because I think paper actually does make an impact. And I'm hoping that the ratings go up for the final episode/s. My dream scenario? That a higher rated network (hello CBS?) picks it up. Maybe an impossible dream, but all we can do is ask, ask, and keep asking, right? So I say we should all be annoying about this. J


	5. Chapter 5: Commemorative

5\. Commemorative

"Caffeine time." Mike quirked an eyebrow at her as he headed for the coffee station and Kay blinked, wondering if she'd missed something. A couple of the guys were throwing surreptitious glances her way, but at her quizzical look they sobered and parked themselves back at their desks. _Okay…_. She finished reviewing details, reached for a pen to sign off on the report and drew her hand back sharply as her fingers brushed…fur?

From beside the pen holder a pair of beady black eyes stared at her.

"Damn it – Mike!"

Laughter erupted as Kay grabbed the stuffed squirrel and shook it at her partner. "You weren't supposed to walk away with any of them!"

"What?" Mike protested, eyes wide. "You liked that one!"

"I didn- ugh." Kay realized she was still holding the little specimen and dropped it into the wastebasket, then rubbed her palm up and down her pant leg. "It's disgusting." She dropped back into her chair. "Seriously." The theft of a whole warehouse of designer labels had led them to the most unlikely ringleader – a taxidermist with a menagerie in his dusty, creepy little shop. Mike had wrinkled his nose but otherwise seemed to brush it off; she'd come out of the place wanting a bath.

"Sorry," Mike grinned, setting a fresh mug of coffee beside her keyboard.

"You don't look sorry."

A shrug. "Well…."

Kay rolled her eyes but accepted the coffee. She had to admit that an easy win felt good. There was satisfaction in wrestling a challenging case through to the end and putting the cuffs on a smart and sophisticated perp, but Edgar Mellon and his clumsy attempt to move 11 racks of Dior out of the back of Featured Creatures Taxidermy had provided an interesting diversion. She was even finished her paperwork.

"So you have plans?" Mike asked, checking his notes as he put the finishing touches on his own report.

Kay shook her head. "Not really. Looking forward to a few days of nothing, though. What about you?"

"Dina and I have reservations tomorrow at that new tapas bar on 8th."

"Nice." Kay felt her phone vibrate and fished it out of her pocket. Huh. "Hi Dina," she greeted, catching Mike's sudden attention. "We were just talking about-" She stiffened, listened. "Okay. We'll be right over." The call ended, she frowned at Mike. "She needs us at the Archive."

Mike was already shrugging on his jacket. "Why?"

"She said they have something to show us. It sounded important." As she pulled on her own jacket and turned toward the elevators, Kay wondered how many things in this world could inject such a knife-edge of stress into Dina's voice. Not many.

...

"Guys?"

"In here," Dina called. She was still standing by Jordan's shoulder, her eyes on the laptop screen even though nothing was playing on it now. Gunter sat across, fingers splayed on the table. He seemed to be staring at his hands.

"I don't get it," Jordan said again, softly.

Kay strode in with Mike a step behind and Dina blew out a breath. "Thank God you're here." Mike moved immediately to her while Kay seemed to stand off a few feet, taking in the table, the laptop, Jordan and Gunter's silence.

"What is it?" Kay asked quietly. Her eyes held Dina's.

Dina nudged Jordan's shoulder. "Sweetheart?"

That seemed to bring him out of his fog, and he spoke to the room. "I was checking out some social media feeds and, uh, you have to see this." He clicked on the video replay.

"What are we watching?" Kay murmured as the first images faded in, each captioned with name and profession. Actor, screenwriter, set designer – all dead in the last year. She recognized some of them, was unaware that others had passed. The music was cloying, manipulative. From the corner of her eye she noticed Dina turn away.

What the- The name wasn't needed but there it was. _Cameron Black, Illusionist_. The face was enough, a couple stock photos that rode in on saccharine notes. He was smiling in that vague way he had, looking pleased with himself. A new trick up his sleeve or just the unshakable optimism she'd found so damned annoying in their early days.

"Shut it off." Dina's voice had a strange hardness to it.

Kay realized she'd been leaning in, gripping the back of Jordan's chair so hard her hands hurt. She straightened and looked at Mike. He had a supporting arm around Dina's shoulders but his face was stricken. She sucked in a breath, let it out.

Jordan broke the silence. "I can track this." His fingers were already flying over the keys. The vid had been uploaded by one of those online entertainment sites so omnipresent as to be virtually anonymous, but he was knifing through flimsy layers of security while the others were still trying to process what they'd seen. He zeroed in on them, found them, and turned to face Kay. "I've sent the address to your phone."

...

To be continued

Note: more thanks for all who've read and/or reviewed. Tonight is part of the season finale – I'm not conceding defeat yet by referring to it as a "series finale"! I sent off more fb to various networks and I'm checking out the progress of the petition ("Renew ABC Deception" in case anyone wants to go sign). There are a lot of upset fans and ABC – as well as the other networks including the mainstream ones like NBC and CBS – need to hear from us (they're certainly hearing from me, so hopefully a lot of other people are following suit!).


	6. Chapter 6: Hunting

6\. Hunting

The pretty young blonde drew her eyebrows together and blinked at the screen. "I don't even recognize this. We didn't put it up."

"It's your site."

"Yeah, but it's not our video. It's not even our style. We're…happy." As if to emphasize she smiled enthusiastically. "We cover celebrity weddings, divorces, who's dating who, who's having plastic surgery or money troubles or needs to go back to rehab…you know, important entertainment news, but happy." Frowning, she handed the tablet back to Kay. "That," she pointed out, "was not happy."

Mike held the door for Kay and they walked down a single flight of stairs to the street, leaving behind the small offices of _NYsCene_. That bit of wordplay had seemed to bring Kelsey, the blonde, great pride. As the website's originator and creative head, she had invited them to look at her computer all they wanted. No sad videos would be found anywhere in her files.

"I believe her," Mike commented as they reached the car.

"Me too." Fishing out her phone, she dialed the Archive. Jordan answered, sounding breathless, on the first ring. "Hey," she greeted. "Can you determine if a website was hacked?"

….

Dina ordered takeout and sent Gunter off for it. Italian – salad and pasta, bread. At the last moment she added some nice minestrone to the order and told them to throw in sodas. She briefly considered asking about their desserts, but Gunter had to be able to carry it all out to the car. She fussed then, taking out dishes and cutlery, polishing clean glassware and trying not to pester Jordan.

Jordan, for his part, was uncharacteristically concise, focused. Kay had phoned from the office of that website producer and they had all gathered around, hopeful for…what? She wasn't sure. But the news had been discouraging anyway: the site may have been hacked and the video uploaded from somewhere else. Could Jordan uncover it? Dina would have thought maybe. Maybe he could, if he stretched his considerable talents into less familiar territory. But Jordan had simply said _yes_. There was no uncertainty, no "maybe." _Consider it done._

She rattled about the kitchen. Would there be enough food? Mike and Kay would be coming soon enough and they would all need to be well fueled. No one would be leaving until they had answers. Finally, finally. A heady relief bubbled through her at the thought of this uncertainty finally ending, but just as quickly it congealed into a cold mass in her stomach. Would they find more than just answers? Would they actually fish out a lead that would end in some rural field or forest, in scrubby ground off an isolated stretch of highway? She could see it all of a sudden – yellow tape and flashing lights and people milling around, and the equipment they take out to scan the earth for human remains. She closed her eyes and shivered.

Unbidden, Jonathan's face entered her mind. (Cameron's face too, really, but there was no way she would ever fail to distinguish Jon's hard edges from Cameron's gentler curves, and she couldn't think of Cameron yet without hurting, so it was Jon's face only. Jon who was still here and still waiting for answers, for help.) That he hadn't walked out of prison some 11 months ago was a testament to their combined persuasive skills. Kay had assured him all the FBI's resources were on it, that this was one of their own. If Jon were to escape, those resources would be divided, distracted. He was needed there, to be consulted and, depending on how things went, possibly to be furloughed again for his skills. But he needed to stay to make that possible. Dina had echoed the sentiment; Gunter and Jordan had agreed. So Jon, surging with panic for his twin, had stayed put and waited for a lead, a clue, _anything_. Anything at all.

Now she wondered if she should go to him with this news, this video that pretended deep feeling but was really just maudlin and cruel all at once. She imagined Jon's face at news of it, could see his anguish. There was no reason to do that to him yet, not with so little actual information to share. Kay had initially seemed to think it might even be a mistake, just a mistake, just an entertainment site showering its audience with the tasteless and vulgar, and accidentally including in their grotesque montage someone who wasn't confirmed dead. They'd figured out it was no mistake, but still they knew so little: what good could she do by burdening Jon with it now? Tomorrow, she nodded to herself. Tomorrow she would assess what they had and make a decision.

"I have it," Jordan called, and Dina gratefully hurried out to him. He was already on his phone. "Yeah, Kay. I've got a line on this. Are you guys coming over? Yeah, okay." He flashed Dina a quick smile as she sat down beside him. "They're on the way."

"Good," Dina nodded.

The door banged open just then and Gunter shouldered his way in, arms weighed down with food.

….

To be continued

Note: Okay, so the season finale (still season) has taken the characters off in another direction. I say no worries – nothing is really as it seems on Deception, so….

Anyway, I was reading comments on the "Renew ABC Deception" petition, which is now well over 9,000 signatures and surging surprisingly fast toward 10,000 (people seem to be signing every minute). One viewer essentially said that he's going to keep complaining until ABC is sick of hearing from him. I admire dogged persistence. Meanwhile, it looks like the "Save Lucifer" campaign may actually be working – so I say there's hope for Deception! I saw that it was trending on Twitter yesterday, as well – that's good! I plan to keep emailing networks and reviewing everywhere. Now that we have a cliffhanger, we need a resolution in season 2…right? It doesn't hurt to keep asking and reaching out to suggest that even if ABC can't realize the potential there are other networks that could pick it up (it's free for us to do; it's easy and quick, and it may just pay off in the end if we keep at it).

For my part, I will not only keep up my renewal requests and feedback, but will also try to write and update several times a week…just to keep things going. Thank you to all who have read and reviewed!


	7. Chapter 7: Dark

7\. Dark

Dusk seemed to close in around them, pressing up against the windows. Kay moved to Jordan's side and studied him. He was serious, focused on the data flowing across his screen. "Are you sure you don't want help, Jordan? I know this isn't what you do."

"Helping the team is what I do," Jordan replied evenly. "I used to have a…friend who taught companies how to build and maintain their digital security. She tracked intrusions and took me along for the ride more than once, taught me a lot. Once you have the tools, it's mostly attention to detail and a lot of sifting through information. Besides, how much time are we going to waste waiting for the FBI's cyber investigators to move on this?"

Kay had to concede his point. Deakins had already watched the video, and though her eyes had softened at sight of Cameron's picture she hadn't been convinced that it meant anything. Certainly nothing significant enough to reopen a cold case and allocate resources. She'd given her blessing for Kay and Mike to follow up and see if it led anywhere, but for now they were still working it unofficially.

"But how will you do it?" Dina put in from behind them. "I wouldn't even know how to find this Dark Web, let alone go into it looking for something."

Jordan tossed her a quick smile. "It isn't a place. And most people wouldn't know how to get in. They live their digital lives on the traditional worldwide web, where everything is more or less open and trackable. It's safer, but you give up any hope of real anonymity." He jerked his chin toward the screen, where the Torch search engine was working. "If you have sufficient security you can access those sites that you otherwise wouldn't even see."

Dina shook her head. "It sounds a bit awful."

"It isn't all bad," Kay offered. "The network is dedicated to privacy and it has its uses – journalists and activists living under dictatorships, intelligence agents, law enforcement can all utilize it. It's just that the potential for greater anonymity also attracts people who want to hide from the law."

Jordan nodded. "Which is why I'm looking for this guy there. He used malware to infiltrate _NYsCene_ 's site and upload the video, and he left that behind. It's a digital fingerprint. By analyzing it, I can search for evidence of other things he's created. And if he's active and hanging out anywhere, the Dark Web is a good bet."

"Jordan," Mike mused, "you just keep unfolding like a flower."

….

Gunter cleared dishes and refrigerated leftovers, and reflected on the rarity of a meal with all of them together. They had eaten and talked, a bit uneasily at first, about the little things in their lives. Although Mike was a regular visitor to the Archive now that he and Dina were officially dating, he and Kay were no longer the presence they'd been when the "Deception Team" had worked its magic for them, or during those weeks – months – of futile searching. But Kay had regaled them with the oddest tale of a rogue taxidermist who apparently fancied himself a mover of illicit high-end goods. And then Dina offered up an amusing anecdote from Johnny – the story of a fresh-faced new prison guard and some very awkward contraband, and that drew a few chuckles. It had felt easy, almost right.

Immediately afterwards, Jordan had slipped back to his computer. Gunter felt a rush of pride in the boy. He was braving strange and depraved territory. Despite Kay's bland assessment of the place, this Dark Web seemed like a cross between the Wild West and something that would have struck dread into Dante himself. His amateur research, engaged in quietly that afternoon, had left him disgusted with the depths to which human beings could sink. That some denizen of such a vile place had come anywhere near Cam, touched even just the precious memory of him…this could not stand. Gunter felt shaken, sickened, angry all over again.

But Jordan looked rock solid there at the laptop, hunting. Steady and determined and brilliant. That brilliant mind, he knew, was going places.

As he tied up the trash bag to take out, it occurred to Gunter that during all their animated chatter he hadn't even brought up the admittedly flattering overtures he and Jordan had been receiving from David Blaine.

….

The night stretched out. When he had last looked up from his laptop the windows were glazed with the yellow of street lights and only the occasional vehicle passed by. If it didn't sleep, the city at least closed its eyes for a time and seemed to gather strength from that.

Now thin tendrils of light were creeping, colder and grayer than the yellow lamps, and he could hear the sounds of it all beginning to stir. Inside were only the sounds of the old place creaking and the deep breathing of his companions. They were not stirring yet. Glancing over his shoulder, Jordan did another mental roll-call. Mike had left at a decent hour, calling the babysitter to let her know he wouldn't be much longer, but the rest had remained. Kay was curled in an armchair, having insisted that Dina take the couch. They could have crashed in one of the spare rooms as Gunter had chosen to do a short time ago, patting him on the shoulder and shuffling off, but neither had seemed inclined to move. Dina had one arm slung over her eyes and looked pretty uncomfortable, but at least she was asleep.

His phone vibrated and he checked the incoming text. Finally, the cavalry was on its way.

….

To be continued

Note: Many more thanks to those who have read and reviewed, or just read. Either is good.

Marmie also mentioned that support for the show seems to be really picking up, and I think I agree! That petition for ABC to renew – last I saw today it was over 10,600 signatures and still climbing! If anyone hasn't signed yet, please go add your name to the over 10K other viewers with something to say. Please also tweet about Deception and send programming fb to ABC – apparently, due to a 'sudden cancellation' today, they've got a hole in their schedule that needs filling. Not that we want to take advantage of what is a pretty unfortunate and negative situation for the network…but positive, glowing feedback can only lead to good things in the world, I say.

I've also handwritten a pretty glowing letter to ABC, thanking them for bringing us Deception to begin with and letting them know that there just isn't enough magic out there for us to watch. Deception offers us magic…and magic is so much more positive and hopeful than another shoot-out or car chase. When I think about what I want TV to look like, positive and hopeful are at the top of my list. We have enough grit and grime, right?

Fingers crossed (and ready to go review the show on IMDB again – it's getting more popular there!) for a resurrection.


	8. Chapter 8: The Cavalry

8\. The Cavalry

Gunter set a coffee down beside him; Jordan breathed in the rich warmth and felt himself perk up a bit even before taking his first sip. "Thanks," he sighed. "I think I need this."

"When's she coming?" Kay asked, checking her phone.

"She should be here any-" A quick rap at the door cut him off. "Speaking of…."

Dina was already there, admitting cool fresh air and a petite brunette whose eyes swept over the room once before settling on Jordan. "Hiya, Tiger," she grinned. "You called?"

Jordan was up from the desk fast enough to almost dump his coffee onto the keyboard. "Ivy," he greeted, moving to give her a brief hug before turning to the others. "So, uh, Kay, Dina, Gunter, this is Ivy Yiu. Best white hat hacker there is."

"Nice to meet you." Gunter extended a friendly hand to shake hers. " _Tiger_ hasn't done you justice, my dear." At Jordan's eye roll he assumed an innocent mien and blinked charmingly.

"Ignore him," Jordan advised, leading her back to the laptop.

Ivy smirked but ignored. Her slim fingers unbuttoned the heavy sweater she'd worn against an early morning chill, her eyes already locked on the screen and further pleasantries forgotten. She fished a flash drive from her pocket and plugged it in. The sweater was then shrugged off and she settled into the chair Jordan had occupied all night. One hand snaked out to snag the coffee. When Jordan pulled a second chair over for himself, she scooted marginally to one side, bringing the keyboard with her.

Jordan leaned in. "So…maybe I'm rusty but I think this creep probably uploaded the file to the entertainment site using some kind of bait-and-switch."

"Hm," Ivy nodded. "They thought they were downloading some sweet free content and instead they got a schmaltzy video file that loaded itself up in the background. I think you held onto a few skills there." She bumped Jordan's elbow with her own, her fingers dancing over the keys. "Hm," she mused again.

"What?" Jordan turned slightly as Kay moved closer.

Ivy tilted her head, studying lines of code. "Whoever he is, he's skilled," she replied. "It's clean and efficient. That's not good," she clarified, directing that comment to the room. "We want him to be quirky and a bit sloppy, or at least distinctive. It makes him easier to track."

Kay frowned. "Are you saying he can't be tracked?"

"Oh no. He can be tracked. We just need to look closer and find his ego." Her voice seemed to skip sing-song over the words. She smiled knowingly at the laptop.

"His _ego_?" Kay pressed.

It was Jordan's turn to smile, a bit sheepishly, as he turned to Kay. "Hackers are driven by ego. They don't like to admit that they need external validation at all or think of their code like their baby, but most do. So they use distinctive elements, like an artist's signature on a painting."

"So that's what you track."

"Exactly."

….

The morning passed quietly. Gunter retreated into his workspace with an admonition to Kay that they call him the second anything happened.

Kay watched the older man leave, his shoulders slumping just a bit. Jordan and Ivy were peas in a pod, their dark heads nodding from time to time, voices low and conspiratorial as they scoured the Dark Web for their hacker. Mike wouldn't be coming by until the afternoon, when his boys would be safely off to a birthday slumber party. He'd been looking forward to his dinner reservations with Dina. She settled on the couch, directionless, and jumped a fraction as a mug of tea was placed on the table before her.

"Sorry," Dina murmured, settling down with her own mug.

"Thanks." Kay cupped her hands around the warmth and took a sip. "It's good."

"Do you think they'll find anything?" Dina's eyes had strayed to land on their cyber-hunters, like she could absorb something useful by studying the curve of their backs.

"I don't know." The tea made her feel steadier and she turned to face Dina. "Whatever they do find, we'll pursue it with everything we've got. We will chase down every hint of information. We _will_ , I promise."

Dina was staring evenly at her. "Kay, I know that," she said. "It's what you've done since he disappeared. You don't need to make promises to me."

 _But she did need to – she did._ Unexpectedly Kay felt wetness on her cheeks. "It's tension," she said, mostly to herself.

"I know," Dina nodded. She breathed deep of the familiar space, the much-loved place that had held them close through so much.

"Oh my God." Jordan's voice was loud, sudden, and they both jumped and rose as one and were there to see.

 _...Oh my God._

….

To be continued

Note: many more thanks to all who have read and reviewed. This is a short chapter but I'll be moving things along presently.

In other news, the "renew" petition to ABC has over 12,000 signatures on it and is still going. Funny thing – I keep seeing the same sort of comment from viewers: they love to watch it with their families and their kids. Family-friendly programming that is still mature enough for adults to enjoy? There isn't enough of that. So when I send feedback to all the networks (which I have done again today), I bring up not only the ingenuity of the magic and the smart dialogue and charismatic cast, but also the fact that Deception can be enjoyed by the whole family. I think that's a great asset, and I also think networks are looking to promote more shows like this. They just need to hear from us that we want it. I'm hoping that other viewers are still letting their fingers do the walking and sending comments – a comment a day (or several) might make the difference. It did for Timeless and Lucifer, and I think it's also the reason Brooklyn 99 got snapped up by NBC. But viewers need to keep on asking. (It's not a problem for me – I'm the stubborn persistent type.)

Join me, especially since it's worked before and may again? Please?


	9. Chapter 9: Tigers

9\. Tigers

They sat rigid around the table, Ivy at the laptop, at the head. Jordan had shifted away from her. Gunter was beside him. Kay across from him, beside her, and Dina stared at the innocuous back of the screen. Black plastic blocked Ivy's hands from her sight, but the quiet clicking of keys, the louder clack of the spacebar never slowed. Her heart-shaped face was cast in spectral light and her black hair shone almost silver around. Her eyes were sharp, focused.

The door opened and Mike was there. "What's happened?" he asked, eyes fixing on Dina.

She was up at once and hurrying into his arms. "Mike – it's…." Over her head, Mike looked to Kay and mouthed a silent, fearful question.

Ivy looked up then, caught Mike's eye. "Come see," she said.

Kay watched Dina detach herself from Mike and stand alone, facing the door, as he moved around the table. She wanted to sit and stare at nothing but her legs straightened and she was up and taking the few steps to join him. Her training steeled her, sorted the jagged shards of shock into something coherent. Already the shrieking in her mind was quieting, becoming rational. Becoming clinical. As she reached Mike's side she put a hand on his shoulder, and they stood just behind Ivy to look.

One more gentle tap of keys and the lines of code disappeared, and he was there.

….

"Do we have everything here?" Deakins called across the bullpen. A voice confirmed – all the archived files, what little there was or ever had been, were gathered.

"Is there any point in canvassing again?" Mike asked. "We got nothing the first time."

Kay shook her head, nauseated. "We should have stayed at the Archive."

"No," Mike countered. "Jordan and Ivy will keep it up; we're no help there."

"No? We leave them to wade further into that…sickness, while we come back here to our desks to read empty files." She flipped open the thin folder of notes. Tidy and organized lines erupted at times into scribbles, jarring, threatening to run off their pages. Frustration and anxiety punctuated each useless observation and yielded over time to a sad awareness that now seemed prescient.

Mike's voice softened. "We'll look again, at everything. And then we'll look again. It's what we do."

Kay wanted to argue but couldn't. Despair would only stall them. The case had lain cold so long that now she struggled to shift herself back there and put the pieces together. In those first hours and days she'd been a force, centred despite her panic, unwavering. After months of nothing, it felt surreal to dive back in.

Deakins conferred with a couple of agents before walking over. She tilted her head at the file. "Are you sure this hacker of Jordan's shouldn't set up here? We have everything she needs. It might save time."

 _Time._ Kay huffed a laugh and caught herself. "Sorry," she said, meeting her superior's gaze. "I just…."

"You're exhausted, Kay. Understandably." The older woman offered a gentle half smile. "Why don't you lie down in the break room for a little while? Close the door; I'll let everyone know not to disturb."

"It's a good idea, Kay."

Kay forced a smile for both of them and rose. "Thank you. But I'm not going to get any rest. I'll lie there feeling helpless and wondering what's going on out here. I need to be active in this."

Deakins nodded once. "Fair enough." She pulled a chair over and sat. "Let's review what we have."

….

She really was amazing, Jordan thought, studying the way her neck curved, the delicate yet determined line of her jaw. Her dark eyes shone in the digital glow. She seemed to slip deftly between characters, a fish in the binary sea. She peeled away layers of security and time. And she was a tiger stalking her prey, relentless. Playfully, generously, she had gifted him the nickname as well, and he had felt honoured by it. But he had none of her power and skill.

Ivy had found… _it_ hours before. He'd spun his wheels most of the night and then she had come in with a flash of teeth and a wink and had followed the trail right back. For the second time in as many days Jordan had felt the air rush out of his lungs. His own voice had startled him and then Dina and Kay were there and Dina was crying out in shock, and finally Gunter was there and gripping his shoulders and saying, "Breathe, Boy."

It was a website, tucked away in the depths of the Dark Web so that normal eyes could never see it. Its audience was wanton, malevolent. It sold "collectibles." Stolen things, illicit things, dangerous things. Chemicals and weapons and tools of torture, every depraved shade of pornography, and _people_ – victims of the vilest predators humanity could produce.

But Ivy hadn't only found a twisted smugglers' cove where human traffickers put countless tragic strangers up for sale like livestock. She had found a picture of _him._ Cameron – their magician, their friend, their family. Sweet, eternally exuberant Cameron, captured in a horrifying moment. Still, pale, gazing directly at the camera. There was fear in his eyes, stark and raw, and Jordan had gasped until Gunter shook him and made him breathe again.

And beneath the image of Cameron was a timer. A _timer_.

So Kay had called Mike to come soon and Mike had said he would, and they'd waited in silence. Ivy had laid gentle eyes on Jordan and helped him scoot his chair away, murmuring something meaningless yet oddly comforting. And when Mike had arrived they'd shown him and he had blinked like he was confused, and then he had sighed and hugged Kay briefly and gone to hold Dina. And Ivy, the predator-hunter, had explained _how those sites work_ and that the timer, frozen at 36:00:00 in that year-old cached image, would have counted down 36 hours to 0 and then the bidding would have begun.

They had listened as Ivy said she might be able to track the money for the winning bid. Jordan had looked at Kay, who nodded like she was processing it. Mike and Dina had sat hand in hand. Ivy had rested her warm hand on his cheek for a moment, almost maternal, and then turned back to her work. And Gunter had risen, walked across the room, and started retching violently into a wastebasket.

….

To be continued

Thanks again for reading! I'm enjoying this project. I also have a challenge for anyone who's interested (see below)!

I'm also still active on the "save Deception" campaign. I sent more feedback to ABC to remind them how valuable family-friendly programming is. How rare is TV that entertains both older kids/teens and adults! Usually it caters to one or the other. Deception does both, but it needs the right timeslot. So I've commented to ABC that renewing it would NOT be giving it a 'second chance' – it never had a first chance. The Roseanne debacle has proven that ratings aren't the only consideration for a network. ABC may be ready to consider the value in flexing its family-friendly cred.

So I guess I'm persistent. But we keep complaining there's too much reality TV and not enough good clean fun, and then we go silent when we should be getting loud and staying loud for weeks or months. Networks want to hear from us – it's one measure of their success. If Deception doesn't get renewed or picked up it will be because viewers decided it was too much trouble to keep asking. I ask daily. (I devote about 10 minutes of my busy day to contacting networks and reviewing on sites, commenting, etc. Not a huge time investment.)

I do have what may be a fun suggestion! Some reviewers mentioned they like the way I write the characters, so here's a challenge. If anyone has a story idea they want to see written, and if they would trust me to do it justice, I'll give it a go. Anything – comedy, drama, horror, romance, fantasy. The quid pro quo? Go send a tweet about Deception, review on imdb or someplace like that, get your friends to sign a petition and/or write comments on the ABC Programming Feedback site and other network sites where the show may be picked up. For every little volley of support, I'll write another story of your choosing. This way I get to write stories, I don't have to think up the plots myself (bonus!), and Deception continues to stay in the public eye long enough for Chris Fedak to decide he wants to shop it around or for ABC to come to its senses.

Any takers?

Cheers,

Bunny


	10. Chapter 10: Kay

10\. Kay

A cheeky grin that grew into a real smile, the one she'd grown so fond of. _I prematurely Ta-Da'ed_. The light of someone who saw possibility in everything. _I couldn't have done it without my lovely assistant_.

But a shadow crept in and the smile faltered, fell away. The sparkling eyes dulled and the skin grayed like years were flying by. The life and joy bled out until there was only sadness, haunting and eternal. _Why? Why, Kay_ —

She jerked awake, knocking her coffee cup off the edge of the desk. "Shit."

"Hold on." Mike was already there with wadded tissue, wiping the floor. He looked up. "I guess I don't need to ask if you got any real rest."

Kay shook her head. "I…uh…I was dreaming."

"Not good then."

"No. I haven't dreamed of him in a while – not like this. In the beginning…." She rubbed her eyes.

"Yeah," Mike nodded, tossing the coffee-soaked tissue and empty cup in the wastebasket and moving back to his desk.

In the beginning he had come to her dreams almost every night, begging her to find him. To _save_ him. From what? Her mind had filled in every blank with a different horror. Cameron locked in a bleak place, chained and beaten and violated, his bright smile extinguished forever. Spirited so far away he would never be found. Dead or dying, alone and afraid and just wanting to go home, and she'd wake sobbing into her pillow, drag herself from bed and get back to the search.

But then, as the exhaustion of those early frenzied days settled into her bones, as weeks became months with not a single lead and the hopes around her visibly dimmed, her dreams started to fade like they were tired too, her mind settling into the reality of his absence. And their cases – their current cases – kept coming. New crimes and victims that they worked without their Master of Deception, back to the reality of dogged investigation. New cases that pushed the old one to a side of her desk, then a corner, then a single sad file in the organizer tucked behind her monitor, there to be taken out from time to time and flipped through, yielding nothing.

Then one glorious night he was grinning at her. He had a thrill-seeking museum docent handcuffed in the trunk of his car. (It wasn't as bad as it sounded.) He was bouncing, excited. She woke buoyed, remembered, and cried again. Now she smoothed back her hair and mustered a smile for Mike. "I still dream about him sometimes, but it's like the good memories crowded out the nightmares."

"It happens that way. If you're lucky."

"Did I move on too fast, Mike? Did I stop pushing this investigation because it hurt and I knew he was most likely dead, and…leave him?" She tasted salt in the back of her throat.

"No," Mike said, firmly. "You moved on when you had to." He stabbed a finger at the file. "Look in there. Nothing but our notes and one dead end after another. We did everything, Kay, and we would have _kept doing it_ if any of it had brought us a damned lead!" His voice softened. "We all loved him; we all would have moved heaven and earth to find him."

Kay nodded and took a deep breath. Somewhere out there was the monster (or monsters) that had taken him, uploaded his picture and set the timer, taken the bids…. Sold Cameron into a fate it hurt to even imagine. Somewhere was the money trail that led to the monster who'd bought him. But nearly a year had passed with nothing. If they hadn't seen that video, the case would have stayed cold and dead—

She blinked. "So why upload the video?"

Mike shook his head. "What do you mean?

"It's been almost a year." Kay clicked on the file to play it once more. Even muted it was melodramatic, photos drifting in slow motion before fading away.

"What are you looking for?" Mike asked, leaning in.

"I don't know. What I do know is we had nothing for months and suddenly the case is warm again." Cameron's photo faded in and she studied it.

Perching on the edge of his desk, Mike surveyed the ceiling tiles. "Maybe he's bored."

"The hacker?"

"Yeah. What if he's playing with us, getting us to run around in circles?"

Kay grimaced. "I wouldn't put it past any hacker to toy with us, but he's not seeing us run around in circles so what does he get out of it?" She glanced over the bullpen, where agents reviewed old security footage and interview notes. On the glass wall, Cameron's photo had gone back up. Déjà vu gripped her. She turned to Mike. "Or maybe it isn't about us."

As if on cue her phone buzzed. Jordan. She tapped the screen. "Jordan, you're on speaker – Mike's here."

 _We've got a money trail._

….

Data filled the laptop screen. It was indecipherable to her, but Kay saw only confident knowledge in Ivy's dark eyes. "So you can't trace it all the way?

"No," Ivy answered with a brief shake of her head. "Cryptocurrency transactions can be difficult to trace, and that's the payment method of choice on the Dark Web." She pointed to lines of code, her voice taking on the practiced tone of a teacher. "Bìtcoin was supposed to guarantee anonymity because you don't provide personal information to make a transaction. Rather than being connected to your real-world identity, your Bìtcoin is connected to your pseudonym – your online identity. All transactions are stored permanently in the blockchain, which means they can be traced back to that identity. And if any part of that identity is ever linked to your real-world self…."

"Then the transactions are also linked to you."

"Right. Even if you try to cover your trail by using different addresses for different transactions, investigators can track a single transaction that moves coin to or from multiple addresses at once, so they can establish that those addresses are in the same Bìtcoin "wallet" and so belong to the same user. Then they just have to link one of the addresses to you, which isn't all that hard."

Jordan looked around the group as they processed the technical jargon. "The point is," he explained, "Bìtcoin can be traced. In this case, we've been able to trace it most of the way because…."

"What?" Kay pressed. Seeing a flash of distress on his face she softened her tone. "It's alright, Jordan. Just tell us."

Ivy stepped in. "We were able to trace accounts used both for the sale itself and for…transport of the merchandise to the buyer."

"Merchandise?" Gunter's voice was suddenly loud and hard, drowning out Dina's stifled sob. He stepped toward Ivy, fists balled at his sides. " _Merchandise?_ That boy was-"

"Gunter!" Jordan interrupted sharply, hands raised appeasingly as he edged between them. "I know. But it makes it easier to-to talk about this. We have to keep our heads. We have to."

"We do," Kay agreed. The nausea was back like a wave but she pushed it down and gestured toward the laptop. "So you tracked the transport?"

Ivy nodded and faced Kay. "Yes. That's one place where connections can be made. When things have to be physically moved, then you're dealing with a much more visible part of the transaction. In this case, the seller hired a courier to move your friend. The charge for that transaction involved transportation time and gas."

Kay perked up. "So they drove him somewhere."

"Yes. And then the courier received payment and checked that payment was received, either prior to or right after making the delivery – probably just prior."

Mike squinted at her. "So…."

"So, the courier used a Tor browser when he confirmed receipt of payment. Tor is supposed to anonymize users by randomly directing traffic through multiple relays, but Tor traffic can be traced through analysis of traffic patterns."

"Basically," Jordan offered, "we found similar traffic patterns at different points in the Tor network, indicating that those points were sending the same information. We were able to connect the points back to an IP address – an internet café in Upstate New York."

….

To be continued

Note: Thanks again for reading! To those who have messaged me story ideas, I'm on it.

Apologies for taking a bit longer with this update…I had to do research. In hindsight, I'm thinking I might have reason to be concerned. After my research, I now have a pretty interesting google search history. There's "how do I access the dark web?" and "can authorities trace dark web bìtcoin transactions?" Along with the ever-popular "where can I find a human trafficking site?"

So if I suddenly go silent, you'll know I've been picked up. (I _swear_ , officer, I was just researching a story! But, while I have you and your (cute) partner here, could you do me a favour and sign this petition to renew the ABC show Deception?) J

Anyway, I'll hopefully be updating again tomorrow. I still have to go do my nightly feedback to the networks, letting them know that TV just isn't magic enough.

Cheers,

Bunny


	11. Chapter 11: Lead

11\. Lead

The concrete grid and lights of New York City fell away behind as Mike steered them north. Kay was lulled by the hum of their tires on the pavement; her stomach was heavy with coffee and the eggs Dina had forced in front of her. She'd taken a bite, realized she was actually hungry, and gratefully cleaned the plate. The clock had ticked past 3:00 am as she and Mike had said goodbye to the Archive and their team, hefted their go-bags and the sandwiches and extra coffee Gunter had made for them, and started driving. 6 hours north on the Interstate and they would reach the Saranac Lake region, where they would find an internet café just off Route 86. If the courier had stopped there to confirm payment, then the drop site would likely have been close by.

It was pretty thin, but they had nothing else to go on. Kay felt like a pioneer, forging a new trail, finally moving in the right direction. A small, rational voice warned her: they were too late, a year too late. They were chasing cold truth now, long after there was any hope of averting the tragedy. They would never have a funeral, a body to cry over and lay to rest. They would find their answers and bring those home, and that would have to be enough.

City yielded to agriculture and light industry, farms dotting the flat landscape. Onward until the first stands of the oak, birch and hemlock of Harriman State Park. The trees were just taking on their autumn colors and were quite beautiful even in early light. A thought struck her: had Cameron been driven north – tied, helpless, probably drugged – along this very road?

"I still don't get it," she said, startling herself and, apparently, Mike, who jerked the wheel slightly and glanced at her. Kay shook her head apologetically. "Sorry. I just realized we've been driving for 2 hours and haven't said a word."

Mike checked the rearview mirror. "I thought you were asleep for a while there. What don't you get?"

"The video. That was no accident. If anything, it feels more like a clue."

"Without it, we wouldn't have officially reopened the case," Mike agreed.

"Or found the money trail, traced the courier location, any of it. We wouldn't be here now." Scrubby fields flew by.

"Well, let's think about it," Mike said. "It was uploaded by a hacker. He was connected to the auction site; Jordan and Ivy said his fingerprints were all over that code."

"He put up the picture of Cameron, so he was part of the trafficking ring or hired by them."

"Right. He wasn't necessarily the one who abducted Cameron and set up the sale, if that was even done by the same person – maybe more like a contractor they used to manage the tech side of things."

Kay nodded. "But what's the point of this, now? It looks like a stupid mistake – after they took Cameron and _sold_ him without leaving any evidence, he waits all this time and then suddenly puts Cam's picture out there for us to find?"

Mike heaved a sigh. "It doesn't make sense. They were so careful in the beginning, but this time he leaves a digital trail right back to himself."

"Right back to himself," Kay murmured, her mind turning it over. It wasn't right…. "No," she said. "He didn't leave us a trail back to him. He left us a trail to the courier and the _buyer_."

"So—"

Kay's thoughts spun and coalesced. She felt the familiar rush that came when the pieces of a case finally starting forming a narrative. "What if the video was a betrayal, or even a threat?"

"The hacker threatening the buyer?"

"Yeah. Or, maybe, using the buyer as leverage to threaten the traffickers."

"Why would he do that?"

"I don't know," Kay admitted. "Could be anything – a dispute over payment, something personal. Or maybe they've fallen out and he's squeezing them. What if this hacker is sending a message? He has the tools to lead authorities right to one of their customers."

Mike mulled it over. "And what would that do to their credibility?"

"Exactly. He knows where all the bodies are buried—" The second the words were out she stopped, clamped her mouth shut. Damn it. "I didn't mean…."

"I know." Mike eyed her carefully. "I think we're onto something here."

She nodded. "But we don't have anything to actually connect us to the buyer. Only a location where the drop would have happened."

"The drop would have been close to the buyer's home base," Mike mused. "He wouldn't take possession of Cameron only to put him on a plane and take him somewhere else."

"So he would be within easy driving distance."

"Most likely."

Kay twisted in her seat and stretched an arm into the back, fingers groping for her bag. She got hold of the zipper and tugged, and the bag came with. Fishing out her tablet, she opened the Bureau's behavioral profile. Hastily drafted in light of recent developments, it sketched a crude picture of their unsub. Broad strokes only, generalized from past cases. A collector – spoiled and narcissistic and with the means to pursue virtually any object of desire. Intelligent, likely successful. Male, mature and organized – late 30s to late 40s. Single or divorced and probably wealthy. Cautious, even meticulous. And disciplined enough to blend in with society.

His neighbors would never know what he was.

"Maybe what we have is enough," Kay mused, looking over the map. Fishing out her phone she dialed the Archive. Jordan's quick answer reassured her. They were capable, ingenious, determined. "Jordan," she greeted, "I'm sending you a profile and I need you and Ivy to dive into residents around Saranac Lake. The ones who live there year-round."

….

"So you like this," Ivy commented. She tipped the cup back and grimaced as the last splash of cold coffee hit her throat.

Jordan's eyes didn't stray from the screen, where he'd compiled and organized demographic data and was mining it for deeper detail. "Like what?" he asked.

"Magic. All this." With a wave of her arm she indicated the room and its paraphernalia, the glittering props and equipment and other trappings of their art.

"It's what I do."

"This is what you do?" she pressed, and quirked an eyebrow when Jordan stopped typing and turned to her.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," she said slowly, feeling a sudden need for caution, "that you haven't actually been doing 'magic' for a while now. Have you?"

His eyes flicked to the laptop, back to her. "Gunter and I have been maintaining the equipment, building some things…we're designing some new tricks and refining a few of the old ones…."

Ivy nodded. "Okay," she said.

Jordan turned back to the keyboard and homed in on lakefront properties, brick estates and vacation homes. His fingers danced over the keys for a moment and stopped again. "We're missing our boss. Our magician – the guy we're looking for, remember? We're…." He closed his mouth, opened it again as if to continue, then shook his head and focused back on the search.

"Waiting," Ivy finished. "You're waiting."

….

They passed the developed flood plain of Albany, its Romanesque public buildings and residential areas filled with Victorian row houses. Into the vast Adirondack region, mountains covered with towering old-growth forest. Past smaller communities – Saratoga Springs, Glens Falls, Lake George. Kay saw lines of RVs nose their way off toward campsites near Schroon Lake. They were caravans of laughing families, blissful ignorance. She watched them and wondered.

And then they reached buzzing, tourist-filled Lake Placid and tacked west, toward the more tranquil quaintness of Saranac Lake.

Her phone buzzed: Jordan. She put it on speaker. "Hey, what have you got?"

 _I've emailed you search results._

"Okay, thanks. Can you summarize?"

 _The area population is a little over 5,200, but from the profile you sent I was able to knock a lot of that out of consideration. We're looking for a single male resident, most likely in a home with some land. That's where Ivy and I focused._

"Good call," Mike confirmed. "He could have neighbors relatively close by, but he's definitely not in the centre of town. He would want privacy."

They ended the call and Kay started sifting through Jordan's results. She was still engrossed when Mike drew her attention. "Kay, on your right."

 _CyberCaf_.

Their conversation went as expected. Cameron's photo drew no recognition from staff at the small, 6-terminal operation. Yes, they had security cameras, but the recordings were only retained for 3 months. And they were accustomed to an ebb and flow of strange visitors, truckers, travelers, state troopers, lost campers and random drop-ins. Their customer base was intrinsically nomadic. The employees all lived nearby, and none could say if anything odd had happened on a specific date over 11 months ago.

They headed back toward the car after a break, a walk around the small building, a few minutes watching the small creek that gurgled behind it, roughly following the highway. Kay stared at the ribbon of road ahead, the deepening woods.

"We'll use the profile," Mike said quietly. "We don't need to know what kind of coffee the courier ordered, only that he was here, on that day, checking for his money. And we know that already."

"Do you think it could have been a mistake? The video upload? Or maybe he was just having fun with us?"

Mike frowned as he fished the car keys from his pocket and opened the trunk to rummage through his bag. "Like you said, it doesn't make sense for it to be a mistake. The guy hacked into a website just to put that video up. He wanted it to be seen. But does it matter?"

"Maybe," Kay sighed. "After all this time it would be pretty hard for us to take what little he's given us and get answers from it. I thought he might be threatening the traffickers by exposing a client's identity, but how much of a threat are we?"

"Good question," Mike said. Closing the trunk, he checked his phone and flashed a quick, fond smile.

"How are your boys?" Kay asked.

"Having a great time at a friend's house. I don't think they even miss me."

"I doubt that."

They pulled back onto the highway, Kay studying Saranac Lake property information. The lakeshore areas were largely studded with B&Bs and vacation rentals; the town itself was a tourist magnet of boutique hotels and shops. "Our guy will live more remotely," she commented.

"By choice," Mike added. "We should check those larger estates tucked back in the woods outside of town."

Kay scowled at the data. "We could trip over this buyer and not even realize it."

"Only if we don't find anything else to nail him with."

"Mike, that's it."

"What?"

"There has to be something else to find." Kay blinked, nodded. "There has to be more to find here. If the hacker sent us here intentionally—"

"—And we're sure he did…."

"He had to know there was something here for us to find."

Mike eyed her. "Like souvenirs he would have kept, or other…evidence of his victim?" He refocused on the road, lips thinned into a hard line.

Kay swallowed and stared out her window, the trees and early autumn hillsides too lovely now. There was a bitterness in the back of her throat and somewhere deeper. But a thought was growing. "Or his victim."

….

To be continued

Note: Thanks again for reading and reviews! Please note that the challenge I proposed in last chapter's note does not have an expiry date. So I checked the status of the "Renew Deception" petition on .org and see that it's chugging along – over 14,000 signatures now, and many, many comments talking about how Deception is the best FAMILY-FRIENDLY (like the emphasis? Lol) show to premier this season. I have mentioned this petition in a handwritten letter to CBS network, home of many excellent law enforcement procedurals, and I've mentioned the fact that kids like it too, because networks are probably looking for good options to market to families. If anyone has the time/inclination to send an email or a physical letter (typed is probably fine) to CBS, I actually think that Deception would fit well in their line-up. PLUS, they're now working on a year-round programming schedule – so they need material! If we want a secure home for our show, email the programming feedback option on their website, or actually write a letter. It couldn't hurt and may just help.

I will continue writing.

Cheers,

Bunny


	12. Chapter 12: Saranac

12\. Saranac

He had liked her the moment they'd met, with her brevity and no-nonsense style. She radiated competence, a woman who had obviously been tested and proven herself. But at the moment he struggled to figure out where she was going. "You're saying that someone put out a video containing a deliberate clue about Cam's disappearance."

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Mr. Black."

"And this video was designed to attract our – your – attention."

"It seems likely. The video was uploaded to a popular site where it would start trending quickly. And the individual who did it made little effort to obscure a connection between that cyber intrusion and a Dark Web site with your brother's photo on it."

"So Kay and Agent Mike have taken a road trip upstate to sniff out more clues."

"Yes."

Jonathan studied the woman, allowing the silence to stretch out. She didn't seem phased. "Are you sure someone isn't just screwing with you, Agent Deakins?"

That got a faint twitch of her lips – almost a smile. Huffing a sigh, Jonathan studied the door. A little voice was shouting at him. Had Cam been _sold_ while he sat inside….

Agent Deakins seemed to be doing the studying now. Jonathan shifted in his chair, wondering if he should ask. Hell with it. "Why are you telling me any of this?"

"You don't think someone should tell you this?" Deakins' face betrayed only a hint of curiosity.

"I think," Jonathan replied, "I've gotten used to being in the dark."

The nod was curt but accompanied by a shift in posture – the agent leaning forward to rest her crossed arms on the table. "I can understand why it might seem that you've not been privy to much information. But there hasn't been much to share."

He sighed again. "I get it. Kay did her whole song and dance about how the FBI was pouring everything it had into searching for Cam, but really. He's – he _was_ – a magician who helped you guys out with a few cases. It's not like he was one of you."

Something flickered across her face, then Agent Deakins seemed to come to a decision, nodding to herself more than to him. "Your brother absolutely was one of us," she said. "That's why his partners are not going to rest until they have answers to bring home. And it's why I'm getting you out of here so that you can be there when they do."

….

"How many is that?" Mike asked, checking the map.

Kay flipped through her notes. "Fourteen." The number seemed impossibly low – there were too many to cover. They had spent the morning driving scenic roads around Upper Saranac Lake. Armed with property information and the Bureau profile, they knocked on doors, knocked potential suspects off the list. The summer cottage crowd, those who with autumn's first chill flew back to their normal lives, were off the list. The retirees were off the list. The tiny, homey B&Bs were off the list, as were families with children. They drove slowly past isolated estates, knocked on those doors, spoke to those residents who answered. A few invited them in; most were at least genial and forthcoming as they looked at Cameron's photo, shook their heads. _Not around here. Never seen him. Very sad, very sad._

"There's one more house here and then nothing but development lots for a couple of miles." Mike surveyed the rough path ahead of them. "Is this supposed to be a driveway?"

They reached the building, a single story post and beam home that had seen better days. As Kay raised her hand to knock, the door opened suddenly and a man greeted them. Yes, he lived there alone, doing communications consulting out of his home office. No, he couldn't put his finger on any strangeness in the area, except perhaps the FBI agents currently at his stoop. Word of the visiting feds was getting around the small community; it was quite exciting. No, he didn't recognize Cameron's photo. _Never seen him, very sad._

….

Dina gently set the tray of sandwiches down on the table. Ivy, fingers dancing over the laptop keys, looked up with a smile. "Thanks," she whispered, then tipped her head toward the couch where Jordan slept.

"I think we could parade a brass band through here without waking him," Dina said, but she too kept her voice low. It was good to see him at least getting some rest, after 48 hours of near constant work. She studied Ivy for a moment. "You look tired yourself."

Ivy nodded. "I got some sleep last night. Jordan and I spelled each other."

"What are you doing now?"

"I've been monitoring the website's communications," Ivy replied, eyes still on the screen. She stopped and turned to Dina. "Basically, I'm using a type of traffic analysis to look at data coming into and leaving the website. Now that we've managed to identify some of the network nodes that were in use a year ago, I'm hoping to build on that to deanonymize users."

Dina blinked. "That's what you did before, to find the courier…right?"

"To find the courier's likely location, yes."

"Ah."

Ivy grinned and reached for a sandwich. "I know it's technical and slow, and it doesn't seem to yield the kind of results we want to see, but that's the nature of the beast." She jerked her chin at the laptop. "They're always trying to stay hidden, and cyber-investigators and law enforcement are always playing catch-up."

"You see a lot of this," Dina commented, sitting down and brushing a few crumbs from the table.

"Not my usual area, but…yeah. Even one case is too much. These…people rely on the dark to get away with it. They want to stay anonymous; their "clients" are anonymous; most of their victims are anonymous too." Her voice had taken on a harder edge.

"Cameron isn't anonymous," Dina said.

"No he isn't."

The new voice startled them and they both turned to the doorway to see Jonathan, with Agent Deakins at his side.

…..

They continued on to the cottages encircling Middle Saranac Lake, updating their map and records after each stop. Kay gripped her notebook, feeling it grow heavy with useless information. More friendly people pulled themselves away from long-weekend grilling on their decks to look at the old photo, hear the recycled summary of the case, and confirm that it was all news to them. A few, remembering the Master of Deception from one TV special or another, asked questions. The agents tried to answer without wasting too much time, but more than once they would find themselves smiling as they recounted a fond memory to some curious local.

Kay led their way back to the car. Drawing a deep breath, she leaned on the hood.

"You alright?" Mike asked as he circled around to the driver's side.

"Yeah. Just frustrated." The engine's heat burned her palms but she didn't move. "Are we even going to know it if we find something relevant here?"

Mike stopped. "Good question. Will we?"

"Could I have been wrong about what the video means? What if it really is just some bastard playing with us, planting false trails for us to chase?" The idea that they'd come up here for nothing, that there was nothing to find in this place, shook her. "How is it, after almost a year, I'm still so unwilling to accept it?"

"You can't move on without answers," Mike said quietly. He was next to her now, studying her with dark eyes. "That's why we're here."

Kay nodded, straightened and stalked around to the passenger door. "You're right. We're here; we're not stopping until we know there's nothing to find."

….

"Jon!" Dina exclaimed. "How—"

Jonathan bridged the distance between them and swept Dina into a warm hug, breathing in her warm, slightly floral scent and wondering yet again how he'd managed to screw things up so well. He stepped back and briefly lifted his pant leg to show off the ankle monitor. "Agent Deakins came to see me, and was kind enough to let me be here for this. Whatever 'this' is."

"Johnny!" came Gunter's booming voice and at once Jordan was also awake and scrambling off the couch and he was surrounded. They hugged and greeted each other, Gunter's hands warm on his shoulders and their voices filling the Archive, and for a moment it seemed so _right_.

And then his eyes settled on the petite young woman at the laptop. Their cyber-whiz, who Agent Deakins credited with much of what they'd found so far. She looked him up and down for a moment as if curious. "I'm Jonathan Black," he greeted, extending his hand.

She reciprocated with a firm shake. "Ivy Yiu. It's a pleasure."

"So," he said, eyeing lines of text on the screen, "I hear that you're a miracle worker."

That brought a blink and a quick furrow of her brows. She segued right into a quirky smile that probably dazzled a good many boys. "Unfortunately," she replied, "there aren't a lot of miracles on offer. I spend a lot of time sifting through digital minutiae and maybe I get somewhere."

"She's modest," Jordan put in, sidestepping them for a better look at the data. "Ivy's been doing the heavy lifting here." When Ivy responded with a playful shove, he grinned. "No, really. She found the website _and_ the courier."

Ivy's expression sobered. "We're still hunting. I'm monitoring website traffic now."

"What do you expect to find?" Deakins asked, and Jonathan turned.

"Ideally, I'd like to use the incoming and outgoing site traffic to uncover more network relays. I'm not sure if I'll be able to uncloak any other buyers, but the more information we have the better."

Deakins nodded as she moved to have her own look at the screen. A subtle lift of her brow and she nodded to Ivy and Jordan. "I'll leave you both to it. Keep me informed. And let me know if you need any additional resources."

Jonathan watched her straighten her suit jacket, acknowledge the group with a brief nod and head for the door. After it had closed behind her he remembered that he hadn't thanked her yet. Oh well – he could take care of that on the return trip.

"So," Dina began, drawing his attention again. "She didn't bring you here to aid in the search?"

"Search? Is that what this is?"

"Of course." Jordan's voice was low but distinct, his eyes focussed on whatever it was they could see in all that information.

Gunter patted him on the shoulder and crossed over to park himself on a chair. "Kay and Mike are up there now," he said. "They're not going to stop until they have all the answers."

Jonathan looked from one to the next. Gunter and Dina wore bright expressions, expectant, but something was off. Gunter's face was etched with lines he couldn't recall seeing before; his eyes seemed to have sunk and darkened. Well, they were all a year older. Even Jordan's face seemed harder. As Dina nodded approvingly at Gunter's words, her smile looked like it could shatter with the slightest touch.

He lowered himself to the couch beside Dina, unsure what exactly came next.

"What just happened?" Jordan's voice made them all turn.

Ivy was staring at the screen, shaking her head. "The site went dark," she said. Then, "Call your agents – let them know they just got someone's attention."

….

To be continued

Note: We're getting close to the action…sorry for any update delays on this one (longer chapters are taking longer to write!). And thanks to all who are still reading…double thanks to those who also review.

So that petition to renew Deception now has over 15,300 signatures and is still growing (there's also a new petition I found there, started just recently). I've read the comments and they all say BRING IT BACK! Best thing on TV. One thing I'd like to do is write/email the show's creator, Chris Fedak. There are a lot of us who would like to see him shop the show around if possible rather than (I don't know) just go home. Honestly, I'm not sure what show creators do after they've poured in the work of envisioning the show, choosing the perfect cast and getting it aired only to have it cancelled.

So does anyone happen to have contact info for him and/or know what he would do, if anything, moving forward? Someone on the petition already suggested getting in touch with him but I don't know if anyone had his info.

Appreciate it! Cheers,

Bunny


	13. Chapter 13: Narrowing

13\. Narrowing

"Jordan. What's up?" As Kay took the call, Mike drew up to wait, one hand on the car door. His eyes wandered out through thinning forest to the sparkling expanse of the lake. Early afternoon sun shone down on canoeists and swimmers, and he caught a whiff of barbecue from somewhere nearby. Here, on the sun-speckled road surrounded by old-growth cedar and fir, he felt cut off from the world.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught the change, Kay suddenly stiffening. "When?" she asked. "Are you sure? Okay, yeah. I think you're right."

The call ended. "What's happened?" he asked, without preamble.

"The website was shut down," Kay said. She flipped open her notebook and began thumbing through pages, eyes scanning the records of their morning stops. "Ivy was monitoring traffic to and from the site. She picked up incoming traffic that was encrypted, but the VPN was leaking server information. She was able to trace it to an internet provider – guess where?"

Mike raised his eyebrows. "Here, by any chance?"

"Close enough. The ISP is pretty small and services Upstate New York."

"So someone from around here emailed the site."

"Looks like. And then the site went offline."

Mike rubbed the back of his neck. "We show up asking questions about a year-old case, and within a few hours they shut down. Someone tipped them off."

"Maybe one of their customers emailing them to complain that the FBI is nosing around made them nervous."

"How small an area can Ivy narrow this to?"

Kay shook her head. "She knows it's the Lake region but she can't get more specific. She says she'll keep digging."

Mike yanked open the car door and grabbed their map from the dash. Smoothing it out over the hood, he traced the route they'd followed. "We've hit – uh – 29 houses." Another…17 that look to be closed up for the season; property records indicate the owners all live elsewhere the rest of the year." Blowing out a breath, he flipped through his own notes. "How many places did we not get an answer?"

"Nine. But of those, 6 don't offer much privacy. They're right near the waterfront or have neighbors extremely close by." Kay drew her finger down the western shore of the upper lake. "The really private homes were in this area." Putting a hand to her forehead, she looked up and down the road. "But what if it isn't a place we've already been? That communications specialist said word was starting to get around about us being here. If word has reached the buyer, he may not wait for us to come knocking."

"Possibly." Mike refolded the map. "What do you want to do?"

Kay surveyed the lake, the road that would lead them into more heavily populated territory. She looked at Mike, nodding. "We should go back."

….

Jonathan paced, his footsteps quiet enough to go unheard next to the noise of Cyber-Whiz's search efforts. She was tapping the keys, tap-dancing over them like she could conjure something back up from the darkness. It didn't seem to be working.

Gunter looked pleased, though, sitting at the table and watching her. Jordan was obviously engrossed. Curled up on the couch, Dina waited silently.

He turned, paced, turned again and then his eyes landed on the poster and were locked with his brother's. Sure he also wore that face, but it was Cam's picture…always had been. And suddenly he couldn't breathe. He fled into the kitchen with its generic furniture and empty walls and no magic in sight.

"Jon?" Dina stood in the doorway, one hand gripping the frame.

"What are we doing, D?" he asked.

A subtle shake of her head. "I don't know what you mean."

"This. That out there." Jonathan pointed past her, into the other room. Blood was rushing in his ears and his voice sounded distant, the words coming out breathless and fast. "Are we sitting here expecting the feds to dig up some miracle that makes the last year just go away? What are we waiting for?" He circled the island and tried to breathe.

Dina approached and he thought at first she would come to him, try to soothe him, but she moved carefully past and reached for the kettle. She started making tea, fetching mugs, digging into the fridge for creamer. She armed herself with teaspoons and lemon wedges, lining up the supplies. Finally she met his eyes again. "I'm waiting for it to hit me," she said.

He blinked at her. "For it to…hit you?"

"Yes." Dina settled onto a chair and studied the kettle for a moment. "When we started talking about selling this place, I knew we shouldn't do it. It was too soon."

Jonathan waited. Finally he shrugged. "It had been 6 months."

"I know. But it was too soon. We went from absolute certainty that Cameron was going to be missing for a couple of days, like when the Mystery Woman took him. He would escape, or Kay and Mike would find him…." Dina chuckled suddenly. "Or more likely a combination of those, and maybe we would be angry with him again, or the FBI would, and he'd charm us with that contagious smile and…life would go on."

"That didn't happen."

She shook her head. "We went from that certainty to this sick, constant, uncertain dread that hung on for months. I felt like I was covered in it, sinking. No matter what I was doing, all I ever really thought about was Cam. Where he was, what he was going through, whether…."

Jonathan turned to look out the window. The view was familiar, safe. And yet Cameron had walked out the door into that familiar world and vanished so completely that no illusionist could have figured it out. He'd been swallowed, literally dissolved into thin air. No wonder there'd been speculation that he had disappeared intentionally, just escaped from the pressures of his life. But no, he'd been taken and it hadn't been perfect. Someone had seen…something. The trouble was, people rarely seemed to realize when they were seeing something that mattered.

Behind him Dina cleared her throat. "As time went by, it all just seemed to settle down. The little routines of life were still there. Bills to pay, meals to cook; this place still needed to be kept in shape. And I kept wondering if realization would knock me flat or just feel like clouds rolling in, so I waited. It was like waiting for a train that never comes."

He couldn't stop a breathy laugh from escaping. When he turned away from the window Dina was smiling at him. "A train?" he repeated.

"Yes. It sounds stupid, but I settled into it. Gunter and Jordan – they're still here. We've changed nothing. I go to Cam's apartment every week to dust and water the plants. We haven't even stopped his mail." The kettle whistled and she turned off the burner, then drew a deep breath and met his gaze squarely. "Hope can be a terrible thing, Jon. It can paralyze you. It hasn't hit me – us – that he's gone. We've just slid into this limbo where he's _probably_ long dead and we'll _probably_ never find out what happened to him and maybe all we have is the thinnest hope that he didn't suffer, that he wasn't in pain and _afraid_ — And…and we can't move past that until it does hit us. We need to cry and yell and maybe punch a wall. Cameron deserves _better_ than us just slipping from 'we love' to 'we _loved_ ' and moving on."

Jonathan swallowed, studying the way her skirt flared when it touched the floor. "So Kay and Mike," he said thickly.

Dina blinked several times, staring at the counter, then she seemed to gather herself again and lifted the kettle to pour. "I don't know if they've really moved on either. I know that Mike blames himself – he feels it was their job to protect Cameron and they failed."

"He's right."

"No," she sniffed. "He isn't. No one could have protected Cam from that."

….

"I remember this place," Kay said, sidestepping the rusted skeleton of an old push-mower that jutted out from the unkempt lawn.

"Oh yeah," Mike said. "The garbage collector."

They navigated the uneven stones of the front pathway, ascended weathered stairs to the door and knocked. After a moment Mike retreated down the stairs again and moved toward one side of the house. Kay was a step behind.

The side yard was a clutter of junk piled in high grass. Another lawn mower sat as if ready to go to work, but its way forward was blocked by metal piping, old fence boards, spools of wire, several augers and what looked to be discarded car batteries. Mike was debating a path through it to the back yard when a voice called out. "Can I help you?"

It was a woman, probably in her late 20s. She leaned out the door, eyeing them as they made their way back to her.

Kay fished her credentials out. "FBI, ma'am. Special agents Kay Daniels and Mike Alvarez."

"Oh," the woman said. "Jennifer Bayer."

"We're sorry to bother you, Ms. Bayer, but we have a few questions. Do you live here?"

The woman shook her head. "This is my father's house. He's in the hospital right now." At Kay's raised eyebrows she sighed. "He's getting a hip replacement…and seeing a social worker."

"Social worker?" Kay prodded.

"Yeah." With a sweep of her hand she indicated the yard. "You may have noticed the junk out there. It's worse inside. He's a hoarder – it's serious enough that the authorities want to make sure he's safe."

Kay nodded. "Our records indicate he's 53. If you don't mind my asking, that sounds a bit young for a hip replacement."

The woman's expression darkened a bit. "His diet is…deficient. He has a touch of agoraphobia, doesn't like to go out very often. I try to come up every few weeks to bring him groceries, but a lot of it has to be canned food so it'll keep. So his bones are brittle. And with the junk in this place he falls over things a fair bit."

"I see," Kay said.

"I live in Boston," the woman said. "It isn't easy to stay connected."

"Understood."

"You said you had questions?"

"We're following up a lead in a missing person case." Kay held the photo out to her.

She looked, frowned. "Why does he seem familiar?"

"He's Cameron Black."

A blink. "The magician? Didn't he go missing a long time ago?"

The observation was benign but felt like a gut-punch. "Over 11 months ago, yes. But we have new evidence that he may have been abducted and brought to this area." Kay let her eyes wander past Ms. Bayer, into a foyer piled with old newspapers and years of junk mail. The cluttered house was a dead end, the troubled man who lived there nothing like the methodical individual they sought. She felt herself deflate a bit more.

"You knew him personally."

Kay blinked, caught unawares. "I didn't—"

"You didn't have to say it." The woman smiled a bit sadly. "I can see." She shifted in the doorway. "Um, listen – I grew up around here and I know a lot of people. I'm not sure how much time I'll have between the hospital and dealing with this, but if I get a chance to spend time with anyone I can ask if they've seen him or…. Do you have a card?"

Mike was already holding one out. "Here," he said. "And thank you."

….

To be continued

Note: No cliff-hanger! Sorry for not advancing the story further, but this more introspective part was begging to be let out.

On another note, I saw something **interesting** yesterday re the "save Deception" campaign. A person commented on the petition – he seemed to have gotten the impression somehow that ABC has noticed the viewer response and may be listening. His comment was a bit vague and when I went back to look for it today I couldn't find it (there's a lot to sift through). But he said that now would be a good time to go to ABC's programming feedback site, choose the "I like this show because" option and offer a glowing review. Even if people HAVE already reviewed, it would be good for as many of us as possible to check in again and say 'we're still here and still really want this to happen,' etc. It sounded to me like he may have gotten a response from the network – who knows?

He also said we should send emails to Ben Sherwood at Disney. I'm unsure if we're allowed to post an email address on this site, so I'll not do it. But his email is his first name, then his last name, with a dot in between them. And the email domain is Disney dot com (with an at sign before it, of course).

So last night I sent him a lovely email asking if he's the right person to send our comments to. I reviewed Deception positively and commented how many people say they watch with their kids/teens, so it's a family friendly show. Disney should like that. And I mentioned that even if the ratings weren't great, it was hobbled by a poor time slot and has loyal fans who believe it offers something more positive and original than much of the viewing out there. It was a nice email, nothing critical, and I hope it moves them. If anyone else would like to send an email to him, I'd think it's a good idea…especially if we've attracted ABC's attention!

Anyway, more updating tomorrow. Cheers!


	14. Chapter 14: Forward & Mike

14 (Part 1 of 2): Forward

Yep, it had been a gut-punch. They got into the car wordlessly and drove. Dappled sun hit the windshield. So much beauty and peace. Kay tried to breathe, focus. Mike had to be focused because his eyes never left the road ahead. Ahead – how could they face the next defeat?

Mike pulled over just before a small apex carport, and she eyed it. "There was a car here this morning," she said.

"Yeah, there was."

The structure was simple and looked to have been fashioned with local timber. It blended well into the backdrop of forest. The silver Mercedes sedan they had noted on their last pass was gone.

Kay thumbed through her notes, breathing again. "Car is registered to an Orsen Counis. He owns the house as well." She caught Mike's brief, approving nod and pulled herself together. "Let's have a look."

They climbed rustic granite flags and stairs, curving through tangled brush, until the path ended to admit them onto a surprisingly manicured lawn. Mike shook his head and gave a low whistle, and Kay wondered for the second time how a square of such aggressive order could have been cut into the chaos of mountain woods. Edged with a tidy box hedge that caught the sunny area's outermost limit, the property was at once hidden and pretentious, a small and calculated retreat. Ahead of them sat the centrepiece – 2 stories of cedar and glass in the 'Great Camp' style that still influenced local architecture.

Up 2 more steps to the wraparound porch. They knocked and waited, peered in the leaded glass sidelight window. The house was regal, dim. Mike tilted his head, listening. "Still no one home," he said.

Kay nodded. "We should check around back."

They moved around the house, finding nothing out of place in either the well-tended grounds or the exterior of the building. The doors and windows were locked; an empty recycle bin sat just outside what appeared to be the kitchen entry. Nothing stirred.

"The car was here before," Kay repeated.

"It was."

Kay looked at Mike. "This place is isolated, well-kept and secure. It fits the profile to a T. We should go in."

"Hold on," Mike cautioned. "We don't have a warrant."

"And we won't get one on what we have. A missing car and no answer at the door? Any judge would laugh." Kay felt herself growing hot, bitter. A judge _would_ laugh. The homeowner hadn't answered in the morning because he was asleep or in the bathroom or hard of hearing or just because he didn't _feel like it_ and now he was out running errands, visiting friends, picking up a nice fat T-bone to slap on the grill. Because none of this mattered to him _or_ the damn judge. She listened to wind in the high evergreens and it sounded like sickness, like evil. _Inside, inside, inside,_ it whispered. She itched.

Mike was staring at her, eyes dark. "Yes," he said. "I feel it too."

….

To be continued…below

….

14 (Part 2 of 2): Mike

"Oh god, Mike, it's bad."

"No, it's not bad," he panted, the adrenal rush subsiding. He felt shaky and the pain was building. The air was acrid with propellant; his ears rang.

Kay twisted the handkerchief tighter around his forearm, wincing her sympathy as he gritted his teeth. "Sorry, sorry." She tied it off and grimaced. "That won't hold long. You need medical attention."

Mike breathed in slowly, exhaled. His tactical arousal control training asserted itself, and he could see that Kay was focusing on slowing her own fight-or-flight reaction. "I'm good," he said. And we still have to search this place." He held up a hand to cut off Kay's protest. "We'll do the search and then we'll go break out the first aid kit." He eased his shirtsleeve down over the makeshift bandage and tried not to look at the blood-spattered floor.

"Alright," Kay surrendered. "We search and then we head back to town and see an actual doctor." She retrieved her weapon from the floor, checked and holstered it, then stepped around the dead Rottweiler to close the door. "Nice pet," she muttered.

They climbed the staircase, listening. The dog had materialized the moment they'd picked the front door lock and stepped inside, and the silence of its attack spoke to rigorous training. Four bullets from his partner's gun to take it down. That was no pet.

"Clear," Kay called softly as she finished sweeping a small bathroom at the end of the hall. They slipped like shadows down the hallway, opening each door and clearing each room in turn. The house was cool and hushed; it felt full of secrets.

Mike checked another guestroom of generic furniture and respectable art. Its banality was disturbing. He felt like there were eyes on them, like the house itself could be watching, and he shivered.

"You alright?" Kay murmured. Her eyes scanned each nook and her breathing seemed loud in the quiet space.

"I'm solid," he murmured back automatically. He had to be solid – they both had to be. The answers they had searched for (and waited for, and maybe given up on ever finding) were close by now and he could feel them. They made the air heavy in his lungs. They twisted the tasteful décor into something grotesque. Somewhere in this empty house was the truth – however ugly and horrific and painful – about their lost one. They would find it and it would probably be bad. It would probably drive them to their knees, to tears, into the grief they'd never really been able to feel. They would cry over it, over him, and they would hold each other and support each other and maybe then they would all be able to move on.

"The master suite," Kay whispered. A king bed with ornate mahogany posts dominated the massive room. The furniture was vaguely colonial.

"No pictures," Mike noted. "I haven't seen a single one."

Kay shook her head. "No personal items at all." She searched a nightstand, then checked the granite-and-glass ensuite.

Opposite the foot of the bed stood an entertainment center, wood and black glass. Mike glanced inside, catalogued a flat screen TV and half a dozen smaller screens. They were all turned off, but something about them made his stomach twist. He glanced at Kay. "There's nothing up here. Let's keep moving."

….

To be continued

Note: A couple of notes tonight! First, thanks for continuing to read and review…or just read. Second, interesting thing I learned last night on that petition I keep mentioning. Did you guys know that the "save Deception" campaign is arranging to send 1,000+ packs of playing cards to Ben Sherwood at Disney to convince him that the show has a lot of fans? I only sent him a plain old email, but I'm hoping that also gets noticed. If anyone has the time to email him as well, he can be reached at "Ben Sherwood (with a dot between first and last name) at Disney dot com. I keep mentioning it because I keep seeing more people signing the petition and talking about how serious they are about changing ABC's mind, and I figure it can't hurt. Email and web feedback, etc are all free, and if we want them to change their minds we have to convince them.

Finally, I didn't plan to pause the story here, but I realized that the stuff to come needs a bit more work before it's ready to go up. So work it shall have.

Cheers,

Bunny


	15. Chapter 15: Patterns

15\. Patterns

— _What are you doing?_

— _Searching._

He sat next to her. He could hear the gentle tic, tic of her fingers on the keys. The mutter of rain on the roof. It was soft and quiet.

— _Searching for?_

She sighed and her hair was ribbons, the pure strong colours of a child's birthday party. Behind her was the sea. Boats were sailing out over the waves. They turned into black fish and vanished. Her laughter sounded like seagulls. — _He's been there before_ , she said.

— _Why?_

— _Do you know how much he paid for only half of a set?_

Jonathan woke. From the kitchen came the muted clinking of dishware and the low conversation of Dina, Gunter and Jordan. They were probably making lunch.

Ivy glanced sideways at him, a faint smile quirking her lips. She had moved two additional monitors and some other hardware in earlier; her little Archive base of operations now took up most of the long table.

Stretching his legs without getting up, he surveyed the screens again. "Find anything new?" he asked, grimacing at the croak in his voice.

"Not since we talked last," Ivy said. "I've been looking for his bidding history."

"That sounds pleasant."

Ivy tilted her head. "We know he was involved in a transaction in early 2014. He paid for…merchandise."

"So…."

Ivy looked at him, and then looked at the teapot Dina had brought earlier. A delicate wisp of steam curled up from its spout. It seemed to mesmerize her for a moment, before she blinked and focused. "So, he bought someone four years ago and then went inactive until last year, when he put in the winning bid on your brother."

"Why did he go inactive?" Jonathan marvelled at his own question. It sounded so rational and inquisitive and he hadn't even screamed or puked or otherwise fallen apart while asking it. _Why had the monster who'd taken Cam been quiet for three years?_

She pondered the question like she didn't already have a good guess. Jonathan waited, schooling his features. He thought of Cameron's picture, the fear so raw and open, and when he looked in her eyes he knew she was seeing that too. "This creep," she said, "probably kept his purchase for a long time. He kept his victim alive for a long time. Then, after he was done, he either resold his victim or he killed his victim, and he found himself a new one."

"Yeah," Jonathan agreed, nodding.

….

They descended to the main level. The kitchen was spacious and made for entertaining, with an oak island in its centre. Copper pots and pans hung above. The black and gold heritage range gleamed, as did the sub-zero refrigerator. Kay checked the walk-in pantry. Dishes for one drained in a rack by the sink.

Through the dining room with its dated but elegant chandelier, and they were in the main living area. Plush seating, luxurious throw rugs and a floor-to-ceiling stone hearth should have made the room cozy, but it all seemed off. Kay glanced at Mike, who was scanning the bookshelves. "See anything?"

"No," he replied. "This place is immaculate."

The main level was finished off by a media room with a massive plasma TV and wine bar. The kitchenette tucked behind was well appointed but looked to be seldom used.

Mike led them down the last hallway, past the empty laundry room, another bathroom, a storage closet filled with camping gear. Then they were back in the kitchen, staring out large paned windows to the side yard. Kay watched as her partner leaned heavily on the island. "Hey," she prodded.

"Yeah?"

"We should go."

For a moment she thought Mike was going to argue, but then he nodded, his mouth thinning into a hard line.

Kay fished out her phone and texted Jordan to update the team. The Counis residence had given them nothing and Mike had suffered a minor injury that needed tending. They would take the search up again in a few hours. She omitted mention of the dog. When Mike's phone vibrated seconds later, it was an anxious Dina checking in. He sent the call to voicemail and texted her back. _I'm okay, Love. Don't worry, we'll talk soon._

Sighing, Kay took a last look around. There was nothing. They'd wanted it so much that the ordinary upscale house had taken on a sinister aspect. But it was just empty, its polite foyer now smeared with the blood of her partner and the homeowner's well-trained guard dog. They'd have to notify the local P.D. – they'd broken into a residence and killed someone's animal, and found nothing. Her throat burned. They needed to go on to the next house, but Mike needed attention first. His arm had bled a good bit and his face was pinched with pain. "We should go," she said again. Deep inside her, a voice whispered _I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…._

….

Ivy pointed to the strings of numbers. "There," she said. This Bìtcoin transaction from 2014 used a couple of the same addresses that showed up last year in the auction of your brother."

"I see," Jonathan replied. He stared at her as she sifted through her search results. His hands curled into fists in his lap. Kay and Mike's latest text had been brief: They'd found nothing at the Counis place; Mike had gotten hurt; they would resume the search later. Dina was now pacing anxiously in the kitchen, flanked by Jordan and Gunter, and he was looking at strings of meaningless computer code. None of them had anything to show for any of it, but Ivy seemed undeterred, still going on about digital wallets and pseudonyms.

Abruptly she stopped and turned to him. "So which one of you is older?"

He blinked. "What?"

"You or your brother. Who's older?"

"I am."

Nodding, Ivy turned back to the laptop. "I have a younger brother too," she said quietly. "He's six years younger; I know what it's like." A pause, then her long fingers began flying over the keys again.

Jonathan let his breath out slowly, feeling his hands unclench.

"This guy," Ivy muttered. "He sure thinks a lot of himself."

"How so?"

She snorted. "His online handle. I've managed to line up his financial transactions with a site user named 'Connoisseur.'

" _Connoisseur_?"

"Yeah. Which is kind of disgusting in itself, considering what he's buying there. But it could be good for us if he has an oversized ego, because maybe he isn't always as cautious as he should be."

"Because he thinks you'll never catch him."

"Exactly."

What she'd said, though. He wrestled with the possibility and the horror. Agent Deakins had said it without saying it; Dina and the others had all said it, and he had known it for a while. Kay and Mike were off searching for answers, not for Cameron. They wanted evidence, facts, a set of dots to connect, and maybe that would lead them to some stinking ditch or a field off a lonely road. It would be a place that even a master escape artist wouldn't be able to get out of, and there they would find bones and scraps of fabric. A watch, maybe, frozen in the past.

His rage was a surging tide. He wanted the degenerate that had taken Cam. He would twist its limbs as it cried out; he would step on its vile throat until it was choking on blood and regret. From it he would take every piece of dignity and goodness until it knew just what it had taken from him…and then he would douse it in gasoline or lighter fluid or cheap vodka and strike a match.

But a voice inside wouldn't be quiet. The buyer had kept his last purchase alive _for years_. He shuddered. The Connoisseur. The _Connoisseur._ The name scratched along his nerves. It made him sick. Something about it wouldn't leave him.

The letters shifted, whirled as his mind hunted for patterns. _He'd always seen the patterns._ The Connoiss— Orsen Counis ….oh god. He was stabbing his cell, calling Kay. "Kay, you have to go back to that house – it's him."

….

To be continued

Note: I see new stories on the site! (Yellow German Shepherd, I'm very eager to read yours, among others…but I haven't yet.) Tomorrow night, aka the first night of the most glorious time of the week (the week _end_ ), I will have time to do this. For tonight I was desperate to nail down details and do research to ensure a reasonable level of accuracy.

When my research failed me, I decided to go with Plan B: make stuff up.

Still also very enthusiastic about the save/renew campaign. You'd think they would have to listen eventually. You'd think.


	16. Chapter 16: The Stars

16\. The Stars

-back in, the nausea and dread and determination warring in them again. Back in, stepping over the blood smears and around the stiffening dog. The air was cool and smelled slightly metallic.

"We've been through this place," Mike said. His eyes wandered up the regal staircase, down the corridor to the living room, over to the bright kitchen.

Kay nodded, slowing her breathing. "We go through it again."

The afternoon sun tilted. The rooms turned gold and then copper and then bronze. Shadows lengthened across the floor. Mike was steady but pale and she worried. They ticked off each room on the upper level, again, found the ceiling access into a cramped attic. Kay went up, Mike an anxious presence in the hallway below.

"Anything?" he called.

Kay stepped carefully from one cross-beam to the next, crouched to avoid braining herself on the beams above. The old pink insulation was covered in years of dust and there wasn't so much as a box of mementos in the space. "No," she called, making her way back to the hatch. It was an awkward exit – she eased herself halfway down into the hall and let gravity do the rest. She landed, wobbled and sneezed twice, the dust pricking at her sinuses.

"You okay?" Mike asked, grabbing her elbow to steady her.

"Yeah. Filthy but okay." She slapped at the debris on her trousers and ran both hands over her hair. It was useless. "Master suite next?"

They moved into the bedroom. Mike pulled drawers from the bureau, deposited their contents on the massive bed. He checked under each drawer for hidden objects and then checked the interior of the bureau itself. He and Kay ran their fingers over each piece of furniture, checking the underside of chairs and tables. They probed the closet walls for hidden compartments; they knelt to inspect each inch of the hardwood floor.

"Where are the cameras that feed into these displays?" Kay asked, sorting through tangled cables behind the television and media equipment.

"I saw one out front," Mike said. "There's one over the kitchen door aimed down the side of the house. And one at the back."

"Okay, that's three. I guess he's security-conscious, given his…proclivities. But there are seven screens here. I've seen no other cameras."

Mike moved closer. "Can we turn them on?"

"I don't know." She tried the remote, saw power lights flick on. The screens remained blank. "They might be connected into a central security system that's turned off…."

"Which makes me wonder where that is," Mike added. He glanced around the room again. "I haven't seen a control panel – not in the foyer, by any of the entries, not up here. So he's got surveillance on the house but he doesn't seem to have the doors alarmed. And if he's got a space set aside for controlling this stuff, I don't think we've seen it."

Kay turned to take in the room again, then turned back to Mike. "That's it. This house is too clean. No personal items, no photos, all the furniture looks new. It's like a perfect display home that no one actually lives in."

"Immaculate," Mike agreed. "Yeah, that's been bothering me too."

"There has to be more. This is a predator. He needs a safe place."

Mike led the way downstairs and into the kitchen. "Alright. So either he never brought his victims or any evidence of them here, or we're not seeing the whole house."

It was a jarring possibility. Kay closed her eyes for a moment, considering. If they were actually in the wrong place; if Counis or whatever his real name was had taken his purchases elsewhere to enjoy them – to a cabin or a storage unit or some other place he owned – it was over. No name, no fingerprints in the system, nothing to pursue. A random, average looking 40-something man who had stayed under the radar for years. She opened her eyes. "We're missing something," she said. "This guy is too careful to keep his victims somewhere out of his control. He wouldn't risk them escaping or being discovered."

"Think about the Archive," Mike said, frowning. "The team had been there for years and didn't even know what was hidden in the building."

"Huh," Kay replied.

They finished in the kitchen and then examined the living room, the laundry, the bathrooms and closets. Each was tidy, expensive, absolutely generic. The media room alone seemed to have some sense of personality about it, but even that was obscured – more techno style than any real sense of personal taste.

Kay ran her fingers over the plasma display, around its edges and across the wall behind. No seams or obvious switches. Mike was trying each remote in turn; lights, video and sound turned on and off around them. It washed over the room with a discordant, chaotic urgency that made her want to move faster. She forced herself to creep along the walls, examine every section of floor. When Mike flipped a wall switch near the door, the dark ceiling lit up and they were gazing at dozens of constellations, hundreds – _thousands_ – of stars. Kay stared at that rendered infinity and wondered. It was beautiful and it filled her with despair.

In the kitchenette behind the media room, Mike pulled the cube refrigerator out from the wall. He shook his head. "It's pretty cramped back here…no room for anything."

Kay nodded and eyed the contents of the small nook. There was a single sink with storage beneath, a microwave mounted above. Behind glass cupboards, expensive wine and cocktail glasses were carefully arranged next to stoneware mugs. Beside the coffee maker was a hammered brass ice bucket. Turning in place, she peered into the vertical shelving unit against the other wall. It housed ground coffee, serving trays, dessert plates. As she slid a stack of china to one side, she felt the shelves shift beneath her hands.

"Mike," she said, tugging at the light wood. "Take a look."

The unit slid easily, as though it was moved often. But behind it was not a continuation of the kitchenette wall. A sliding door, narrow and sleek, greeted them. Kay slipped her fingers into the recessed handle, with her other hand slipped her weapon from its holster. Mike was beside her, weapon already drawn. Her blood rushed in her ears; her training sharpened every sound and movement. She slid the door open and they looked down together.

….

To be continued

Note: Thanks to all for reading. I have also been reading. Yellow German Shepherd (wait a second...is there such a thing as a yellow German Shepherd? - I kinda thought they were black and tan), I meant to start in on your new story and then I realized it's a sequel. So I'm going to read the first 2 of the trilogy before moving onto the new one. Apologies for the slow pace. I believe "Realizations" is first?

Sorry also for not getting more of my story done. I _was_ writing and then I heard a bang at my gate and looked out. Yes, it was a bear. I'm not sure it was the same one who actually broke my gate last year, but it was large and impressive. So I called the Bear Alert line and said, 'It's hanging around - what should I do?' And the guy said, 'Well you could go outside and throw something at it.'

Which is when I was sorely tempted to ask him exactly _what his credentials are, again._ Seriously not the way I want to get into the news. 'Deception fanfiction writer dies because she was stupid. But the gate's okay, so that's good!' Anyway, s/he eventually wandered off and I returned to my computer.

Re the Save Deception campaign: still going strong! I'm going to pen another letter this weekend, directly to Mr. Shepherd at Disney. I will talk about how much we love the show. I may even conversationally mention the bear, because I'm sure it can become a metaphor for something. :)

Cheers,

Bunny


	17. Chapter 17: Declination

17\. Declination

The basement was subterranean, windowless. In contrast to the polished levels above it had rough concrete floor and walls and an unfinished ceiling low enough to make it feel boxlike and oppressive. It was cooler than the rest of the house, darker, and the air smelled musty but with a faint tang that Mike couldn't quite name. He ran his eyes over the room and felt like they'd descended into something _wrong_.

"This is more like it," Kay murmured as she stepped off the bottom stair. She pointed to the near wall, where a table and chair were tucked up against the side of the solid staircase. "Look." There was a laptop docking port and large monitor.

"No laptop," Mike commented.

"He probably took it with him."

Mounted on the concrete was what looked like a control panel. Mike stepped up to it and clicked the menu display. "This looks like it controls the video surveillance system for the house. And I see another camera, covering…probably the bottom half of the stairs and this area."

"So he's concerned about security down here."

Metal storage units, closed and locked, lined the far wall. There was a workbench in front of them.

"We'll need to get into those," Kay said.

Mike nodded.

They moved on. A small stand next to the desk held neatly stacked DVDs and several flash drives. They passed a wall-mounted stereo unit. An oddly ornate white pedestal sink with bottles of antibacterial soap and hand lotion. A leather recliner with a floor lamp beside it and a discarded newspaper on its seat. Mike checked the date. "Today," he noted.

"This is the space he uses most," Kay said. "This is where he feels comfortable." She eyed the ceiling. "Another camera."

Mike spotted it, followed its digital gaze down the length of the dim basement to the end. The camera was aimed directly at a door. Kay had stepped off toward the work bench; she tugged experimentally at one of the locks on the storage units. He was already moving. "Kay," he called, and felt her come up beside him as he reached the door. It was plain metal, nondescript, nearly blending in with the wall in which it stood. It was locked, with a steel security bar across it.

His heartbeat was painful, heavy as he disengaged the bar and threw it aside. It hit the floor with a clang that rattled his nerves. The keys were there, hanging on a simple hook. They would open the door with those keys and they would face whatever was on the other side of it, or what had been but was no longer, or maybe what had never been at all. He looked at Kay; she was ready (not ready?) at his side.

….

Her hands weren't shaking and her stomach wasn't twisted into knots and she wasn't about to _lose it_ as Mike turned the key. She was through into a narrow hallway, methodically searching. Mike was solid behind her. Their moves were fluid, choreographed from long practice. One step forward, noting that the floor was now smooth ivory tile, the walls finished and painted. One step past a small bathroom to her left – glass shower stall, simple fixtures, no door. She felt rather than heard Mike check it.

One more step forward, her eyes on the far wall, her heart thudding. A walk-in closet to her right, silk robes on hangers, a few casual shirts. No threat lurked in there. One more step and she just wanted to throw up because it was a bedroom, a bright, almost elegant _locked prison of a bedroom_ , entombed in this basement, buried under this creepy secluded house in the woods.

Another step and she was at the end of the corridor where it opened into the generous, tastefully decorated main room. A flat-screen television mounted on the wall, a small table with a few books on it. And around the corner a bed, burnished gold silk jacquard and…Kay cried out.

….

To be continued

Note: Thanks for reading, and sorry for another cliffhanger! It will move soon...I promise. And thanks to ColorsOfTheWind for your recommendation about emailing Amazon re picking up Deception. I emailed them today with a lot of glowing feedback. Then, just for good measure, I went and gave ABC some more feedback. I'm not surprised they don't answer as I find the big networks aren't that responsive, but I'm pretty sure they do notice large volumes of the same messaging coming from viewers. It would be bad business not to notice. As the wheels of pretty much anything tend to grind slowly, I'm not giving up on the idea of a surprise reversal of the cancellation just yet. It's really only been a matter of weeks since the show ended. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter...I'll have another one soon! The story is pretty much written in my head and in snippets on my phone, so I just have to polish it up. :)


	18. Chapter 18: Angel

18\. Angel

The doors flew open. "32 year old male, suspected phenobarbital overdose—" Night air flooding the vehicle, EMTs moving as one—

"GCS is 3, respiration shallow at a rate of 8—" Rattling, the metal limbs of the gurney locking open, wheels down on pavement—

"Weak radial pulse of 42, BP 60 over 32—" White coats and scrubs, a surging tide of personnel and she was out on their heels, unnoticed, like flotsam on the sea—

"Pulse ox 70. Intubated on scene, IV saline 2 units in—" She barely registered the squeal of tires, the slamming car door and Mike at her side saying something—

Under the massive metal and glass canopy, through wide doors into caustic fluorescent light and chaos, ears ringing from the sirens. They ran, followed, couldn't see the gurney anymore, argued with the attendant who stopped them from going any further. _He's in good... –_ where'd they take him— _Agent, listen. He's in good hands, let them do their work._

Kay opened her mouth to argue more but no words came out. She blinked, dazed, as the attendant turned away.

Mike stared through the glass doors into the controlled frenzy of the Emergency Department. Doctors and nurses swarmed, carried out the steps critical to preserving life. Monitors displayed numbers, erratic lines, flat lines. He looked at Kay. "He's in good hands," he said. He took a step, reached out to brace himself on the wall and suddenly was on his knees, crying.

….

Kay leaned in the doorway, further in than she'd been allowed hours before. Her eyes lingered across the room, traveling up to the monitors where now steady numbers and lights reassured her, then back down to rest on him. Cameron.

 _Cameron._ It was…inconceivable. Unthinkable. Their last few tumultuous days, only a day before picking up their go-bags and Mike kissing Dina goodbye and both of them returning Gunter's hug (so grounding it had been, knowing they were there), and heading north to find answers.

Answers – not once had she thought they would find more than that in the sun-speckled mountain woods. Closure was the most they could have hoped for after all this time. The truth would have been cold and abstract and it would have _hurt_ , but she had told herself it would be enough. The little voice inside her had whispered it. _Answers will be enough._

A nurse hurried by, rubber soles squeaking mutedly on the tile floor. White tile, sturdy and clean (she saw the ivory tile of that room, imagined blood and tears on it). A doctor was paged up to the Neurology department. Footsteps thudded down the corridor (and she breathed faster, remembering the softness of the mattress under her knees as she cradled him and talked and felt desperately for that weak flutter of a pulse, the breaths so slow and shallow that each one felt like it would be the last, until finally – _finallyfinallyfinally_ – she heard the medics come thudding down the stairs with Mike). Somewhere a baby was crying, inconsolable. She listened and wondered why she hadn't yet fallen apart.

"He looks better."

Mike's voice startled her and she turned. He was smiling, looking unscathed except for the bandage on his arm. "You look better too," she said, a bit shakily.

"I feel better." He moved to her side and jerked his chin in Cameron's direction. "They took out the breathing tube after all."

"Yeah. While you were being bandaged up."

"Should we call the team, now that we know he's out of danger?"

Kay took a deep breath. "I want to take him home first."

"What? Can we?" Mike checked his watch.

"Yes," Kay said. "I called Deakins and she's made the arrangements. There's an air ambulance en route to the airport, a Lear jet. It's 5 minutes from here and then a 40-minute flight to New York. Another ambulance will meet us there."

Mike blinked at her. "Is he okay to travel? I mean, he was almost…."

"I know," Kay nodded. "The doctor said it should be safe. He isn't thrilled that we're moving him so soon, but there's no medical reason we can't."

"Okay. And you don't want to call anyone back home yet."

"It's 5:30 am; let them sleep a bit more. And they've waited so long already." Kay swallowed and looked at Cameron again. "He's going to be asleep a while longer too. I think, after all this…."

"What?" Mike urged softly.

"I'd like for him to wake up away from here."

….

Dawn crept up on the city. Dina dozed, half aware of the old place settling, the hum of the refrigerator and the flow of traffic outside. She dreamed of Mike laughing, walking with her in bright sunlight. He was fine, he said. It was all fine but he had to go because the FBI was calling – they had a case. He was still smiling as he reached for his phone….

She woke to the ringing of the landline, the dream dissolving away. Fumbling over the back of the couch, she snagged the receiver off the table and answered.

 _Dina. It's Kay._

She was instantly awake, sitting up and clearing her throat. "Kay," she breathed. "What happened – where are you? Where's Mike?"

 _He's fine. Um…can you get the team and come to New York-Presbyterian?_ Kay's voice was tinny, other voices and the sounds of a PA system intruding. _We're in Emergency, in the intake area._

"Alright," Dina said, her heart thudding. "Kay…." But another voice was calling on the other end, and Kay had gone silent. "Kay," she tried again, "are you there?"

 _I'm here. Dina, I have to go – they're calling us. Don't worry – it's good news._

"Okay," Dina said. "We're coming."

….

"Good news?" Gunter repeated, rubbing his eyes with one hand and slamming the car door with the other. "That's all she said?"

"It's all she said." Dina entered the parking stall number on her phone and paid for two hours. The massive Emergency sign was a beacon to the miserable and worried. They gravitated toward it.

Jonathan said nothing. He'd said nothing when Dina poked her head into the spare room to rouse him and Gunter, both of them having fallen asleep fully clothed on the bed. He'd said nothing as she awakened Jordan and pulled him from the other spare room, leaving Ivy to turn over and mumble sleepily before settling down again. And in the car he'd been wordless, pensive.

They walked through sliding glass doors and were greeted by antiseptic air, people crammed into plastic seating, an anxious woman standing with a baby slumped in her arms. A nurse called out a name, twice, and an older man struggled to his feet. He lurched: his leg was hurting. He mumbled as he followed another nurse past the plexiglass windows and into the treatment area.

"I hope Mike's okay," Jordan said, edging away from a set of parents with hacking youngsters.

Dina nodded. "I'm sure he is." They would have taken an injured federal agent pretty quickly, anyway. And he'd said it was nothing. "Just like him," she added. "Whatever happened up there, he probably waited until they got back here before seeing a real doctor."

Jonathan glanced at her as he paced, eyes roving over the sick and hurt and their companions. Nurses walked by; a couple of them seemed to give him a second look before moving on.

"Mike!" Gunter called, spotting the familiar FBI jackets down the corridor, past the central admin station and trauma bays. He beckoned Dina and pointed. "There they are!"

Dina rushed to them, the others following. "Mike, Kay," she greeted, relieved.

Mike beamed at them, pulling Dina into a quick hug. "Hi, how you doing?"

"Kay," Gunter sighed, "I'm glad to see you're both in one piece."

"We are," Kay smiled briefly, then the smile faltered and she drew a deep breath. "I know you didn't hear from us last night, and I was…cryptic on the phone this morning. But I couldn't figure out how to tell you. Neither of us could." She turned to Jonathan.

"Oh god," Gunter muttered, while Dina put a hand over her mouth and leaned into Mike's embrace. Jordan waited, hanging on her words.

Jonathan narrowed his eyes. "You called it 'good news,'" he said evenly. "You said it was good news."

Kay nodded. "Yes. _Yes_ – look." With a tilt of her head she directed their focus across the Acute Care area, where an attending physician assessed a patient.

They looked for a moment, then another moment, and then Jonathan blinked and opened his mouth and took a step into the restricted area, and was cut off by an imposing nurse who looked as though he spent as much time restraining agitated patients as he did dressing wounds.

"What—" Dina said. She looked desperately at Mike. "What?"

"Jonathan, wait," Kay urged, stepping in front of him. "You can't go in there yet. Soon. Very soon. Just let them take care of him." Facing the group, she looked from one to the next and read their shock, the potent mix of hope and an abyss of fear. She strained for the words. "We found Cameron last night, alive. He's…going to be alright."

….

To be continued

Thanks to all who are still reading! I really appreciate it.

I don't have much to report on the save Deception campaign, as I haven't checked in on it today. But I do know the petition had hit 17000+ signatures yesterday and is still going strong! I think I'll email Mr. Bigwig at Disney again and then write another letter. And maybe I'll email/write Amazon again...I'm not sure I sent my last email to the right place. I got an auto-reply that customer service was going to be contacting me...for my issue? (That's kind of a loaded term, lol.) But I will try again! I have a gift for being annoyingly persistent when I want something. :)


	19. Chapter 19: Deakins

19\. Deakins

The notebook she thumbed through was tidy, detailed. Names, addresses, observations. The date and time of each encounter, a record of information gained and further actions to be taken. Every line was a dead end. Each new line seemed to start with a bright flash of hope. But all that ink had only eliminated possibilities. The real story was in the spaces between the lines, outside their edges, down the expanse of unwritten page.

It was in the silence that everything had happened. That record was not yet written, but she knew how it would read. Cameron Black had been taken in what seemed to be a carefully planned abduction, had been sold through a human trafficking network using Dark Web resources. He had been transported to the buyer, restrained and probably unconscious. Then he had been kept in a locked room for almost a year, isolated. Terrorized.

Exams conducted at the Adirondack regional hospital had confirmed brutality, rape and the probable use of phenobarbital and GHB – both found in his system – to keep him compliant. The scarring on his wrists and ankles was no doubt from frequent use of the shackles that Kay had found him in and desperately unlocked at the scene.

Saranac Lake PD had already been in touch with preliminary findings from a search of the house. There'd been little of use on the main and upper floors – no personal records, photographs or other identifying documents. But that impersonal space had hidden beneath it the most personal and sinister of places. From the basement the officers had catalogued a taser, leather restraints, a drawer of empty lighters, various sex toys, pornographic DVDs and a stack of detective magazines featuring graphic depictions of bondage. The Bureau's Behavioral Science Unit would diagnose Counis – for want of a real name – as a sexual sadist.

When a hacker had brought unwanted attention to the otherwise cold case, Counis had panicked and contacted the site. Like so many criminals before him he'd made a critical mistake that revealed his location. With the FBI combing through his small community he had cut his losses, forced a lethal overdose of pills down Cameron's throat and run. The pills had acted too slowly and the agents had moved thankfully fast. Still, when they'd entered that room Cameron had been cold to the touch, breathing and heart rate slowed almost to a stop.

The ER staff had done their job – pumped his stomach, started dialysis to filter the barbiturate from his system. And then Kay had phoned to check in and her voice had broken while she struggled to describe the scene. Finding Cameron unconscious on the bed, naked and chained. Mike covering him with his jacket and running outside for cell reception. Kay spotting the keys heartbreakingly close on the nightstand, unlocking the cuffs, holding him and frantically trying to keep him from slipping away before the ambulance came.

The moment he was out of immediate danger Kay had called again to request transport, her first instinct to spirit him far away from the place that horror had happened. Deakins had made the arrangements herself. An angel flight. It seemed fitting.

Now she listened to the sounds the hospital made, the hum of ventilation, the beeping of equipment, the quiet voices and the urgency that seemed to pulse underneath it all. A junior agent leaned against the wall nearby, eyeing the doorway across the hall.

"Go home, Anderson," she ordered.

Anderson straightened to attention. "Ma'am?"

"He's with his brother; he isn't going to run." Deakins stood with her back to the door. "Go home," she said again.

"Yes, Ma'am," the agent replied. "Goodnight." With a nod he turned and headed down the corridor toward the elevators.

"Thank you."

The voice surprised her and she turned to see Dina leaning in the doorway, framed by lamplight. "A guard wasn't necessary," she replied.

Dina shook her head faintly. "No," she said more quietly. " _Thank you_."

Deakins gazed past her, into the room. Cameron was awake but groggy and confused, the team and her agents gathered round the bed. Jonathan Black was in a chair beside. As he moved, the light caught his ankle monitor. Even that wasn't necessary: from the moment Cameron had been returned Jonathan had been by him, drawn like a moth to his brother's flickering flame.

Mike Alvarez seemed to be saying his goodbyes, ready to head home to his kids. She couldn't make out his words, but as he turned away Cameron reached for his hand and said something. Mike stopped, murmured an even softer reply, then leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Cameron's forehead. Another murmur and a tired nod from Cameron, and Mike turned again, smiled affectionately at Dina as he brushed past her, and stepped out into the hall. He blinked a few times in the harsh corridor light, and nodded at Deakins. "You're still here, Boss?"

"I am," she said. "How is he?"

A pause, and then Mike stepped further away from the door, lowering his voice. "I don't know. He seems really…calm, but that might just be the rest of the drugs in his system. After everything he's been through…."

"It'll be a long road."

"Yeah. Have the local police gotten anything out of the house?"

"Plenty," Deakins spat. She shook her head and sighed. "But nothing that tells us who this Orsen Counis really is."

Mike shrugged. "He's had years of practice hiding in plain sight. And now he's probably gone to ground. He'll be hard to find."

Deakins nodded, her gaze wandering back into Cameron's room. "I don't care how hard he is to find," she said. "He took our boy. We don't stop until we _put him down._ "

….

To be continued

Note: Thank you, thank you, thank you for the reviews! I am so glad people are still enjoying this. We're getting close to the end, and thankfully I have a couple of ideas (kindly provided by some of the lovely people here) for my next story. I will also finally be reading more, and reviewing what I read. Yes, I do indeed have room for improvement in that area.

Thanks also for the idea to email Amazon, as I've now obtained the correct email address for them and have sent a long, beeeeautiful email. My previous email apparently went to tech support. I'm pretty sure they can't help us save Deception. Although it's worth a try, because I did ask them to help us save Deception. (Note to self: IT departments are not particularly responsive.)

Oh, and I'm also pondering the idea of a crossover story between Deception and some other TV show. One possibility would be one of the NCIS series. Imagine the fun that could ensue. Yup, I'm imagining it. :)


	20. Chapter 20: Cameron

Chapter 20: Cameron

He…hurt a bit. Not much, not like it had been. His throat was a bit sore; a nurse had told him it was from the tube they'd put in to help him breathe. His wrists and ankles were a bit sore; that was from the steel cuffs. One hip ached, hardly noticeable; that was from so much time spent with his limbs splayed unnaturally, held in place for hours – or days, sometimes days – by the chains.

And he felt restless, itching to get up and move around. At the same time he was heavy, exhausted. The medical staff had spoken to him gently, saying only that he'd been through a lot, but he'd heard the word uttered softly, just outside the door, more than once. _Overdose._ He'd known that.

 _Withdrawal._ That one was unexpected.

His brother was close, sitting so still in the chair by his bed that long stretches would pass when he forgot anyone else was there. He stared up at the ceiling tiles. The fluorescent lights were off and a single wall light cast a soft glow over everything. The corners of the room were in shadow.

"You should sleep," Jonathan said quietly.

Cameron looked at him. "Haven't I already been sleeping?"

"Nope. You've been unconscious."

"Same thing," Cameron replied.

"Not the same thing, little brother."

"Younger by a few minutes, Johnny." The retort came automatically, surprising him. It felt good.

Then Jonathan leaned forward and reached out to gently touch his cheek. "You look younger than me without the scruff."

He stiffened as another voice, smooth and slinking, echoed in his head. _That stubble is so unbecoming. So unbecoming. Let me fix it for you._ He remembered the scrape of the old-fashioned razor over his skin and how he'd stood so still, breath caught in his throat, knowing that if he trembled he would earn himself a slap. Or worse.

Jonathan's hand was warm as it cupped his jaw and Jonathan's eyes were locked on him as though he could read every thought, and Cameron gazed back feeling only strangeness at first. Then there was a shift and Jonathan slowly pulled his hand back. Cameron felt cool air where the warmth had been. Sadness washed over him, heavy and cold, as he realized they had all been doing that – moving slowly, telegraphing their intentions to avoid startling the victim in their midst. When Dina had come to him the way someone would approach a wounded animal, when Mike had slowly and carefully leaned down to kiss him the same way he'd seen Mike so easily and often kiss his sons, when Gunter had laid a hand gently on his head and tried to smile at him…they had all been cautious, hesitant, unsure how to be around him now.

"Cameron," Jonathan said.

He came back to the present, frowning a question at his brother.

"We're here."

Cameron blinked and was hit with a sense of surreal wonder. They had come, just like he had promised himself they would. He had whispered it fearfully, desperately through so many dark nights – _They'll come…they'll come…they'll come._ His refrain, his dream, what he had whimpered during the worst of it. _They'll come, they'll come._ And they had come after all that time and now his brother was sitting with him and Kay and the team were somewhere nearby and he was…safe?

He felt a flare of panic.

What if, what if? He had imagined moments like this, created them down to the most intricate detail in his mind and used them as shields against pain and terror. When _he_ had come into the room with that smile twisting his face and some awful hurtful thing in his hands, fantasies of rescue had been Cameron's ticket away. All he'd had to do was stay long enough to satisfy _him_ that the captive was helpless and under control. All he'd had to do was wait and try not to shake as the man got close, breathed hot and eager in his neck, ran hands over him and talked about the horrible things he was going to do. And then Cameron could slip off and have long conversations with Kay, laugh with Jordan as a new trick went hilariously wrong, sell a great idea to Deakins and watch the moment her face shifted from stern skepticism to resigned indulgence. Shuffle a deck of cards for them. Drink tea with Dina, her perfume scenting the air. Watch Gunter work. Sit across the table from Johnny and plot strategy. Explain magic, watching Mike's eyes light up. Explain magic some more. Walk through the old rooms of the Archive – home – the place he loved and knew he would never see again. Walk anywhere with his partner, who was also his best friend and family and maybe so much more, as her eyes sparkled and that smile, so easy and beautiful, lit up her face.

He had always known there would be a line that he could someday cross. The line ran between the lifetime of horror and degradation he faced and the sheltering, magical dream-world he'd created. In his darkest moments he'd wondered what would happen if he chose the dream forever, his mind freeing itself from that room while his body, still breathing, lay back there on the bed under a monster's control. While the lighters were held close to his skin and the straps were used to tie him, to gag him so he could barely breathe around his own screams, while those movies played on the TV and his…owner tried out every depraved idea they offered, what if he left and just never returned?

And what if this – the rescue, the hospital, his team, his twin – was all just imaginary details in the escape artist's ultimate escape?

"Cameron?" Jonathan prodded.

"I'd miss you," he whispered.

"You'd what? Tell me, Cam."

His eyes stung. Johnny was so close and _real_. He tried again. "I would miss you if I died in there."

Jonathan blinked a few times and nodded and then sighed. "I'd miss you too," he said. "But you aren't in there anymore, and you aren't going to die. So we don't have to miss each other now."

Cameron sniffled and nodded. "Okay. Okay." In the back of his mind he could still feel the gnawing fear that he would drift off to sleep in this safe place and wake up back there, alone. He saw the faces of everyone he loved and, just in case, silently said goodbye to each one.

Jonathan swiped a hand over his eyes and smiled gently. "I know how to get you to sleep," he said. "Scoot over."

His heart beating faster, Cameron shifted over on the bed. Jonathan removed his shoes, shed the jacket he'd been wearing and slowly climbed up, stretching out beside him. Cameron let his brother pull him close; he rested his head on Johnny's shoulder and breathed in the smells of leather and aftershave and coffee. Everything was warm and solid; Johnny's arms were around him and Johnny's voice was a deep rumble and if this was just a dream it was more real than any dream he'd ever had.

"You go to sleep," Jonathan murmured, his breath ruffling Cameron's hair. "You go to sleep and I'll be right here when you wake up."

….

To be continued

Thank you once more for all the reviews! I'm glad people are still enjoying, and I'm pondering the feedback a few of you have offered about how you want to see the story go. It's food for thought, so thank you!

I was checking in on the "Renew Deception" petition and saw that it appears to have been joined by another petition to...wait for it...Save Deception! I had seen another petition over there, but I think the one I spotted today may have just popped up. So maybe the fans are getting irritated with the general unresponsiveness we've experienced so far, and are stepping up efforts. That would be good. I've emailed Amazon at 2 different email addresses now and maybe they'll take on our show. I've also sent MORE programming feedback to ABC, because if they see that the feedback is still coming in on a daily basis (from more than just little old me, lol), I suspect they'll be more convinced that the fan base is serious. And that's what they need.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed the latest chapter. I'm wrestling with the next one as we speak. :)


	21. Chapter 21: Them

21: Them

The coffee tasted like dishwater run through a paper filter. Kay curled her hands around the cup for its warmth, took another sip and grimaced. She'd have to make a trip downstairs to the little barista place on the main level, if it was still open. Maybe get a muffin too.

But first she had to check once more. Glancing down the hall into the little waiting area, she could see Gunter's long legs stretched out. Dina was in profile, reading something. They had taken turns visiting the cafeteria earlier and now they looked to have settled in for the night. She felt it too, the strange fear that if she went home now she would wake up in her bed knowing this had all been a dream her mind had spun to deal with the loss. Awake was better, with the certainty – the exhilaration, relief, _joy_ – of his return. Downing the rest of the coffee, she pitched the cup into a wastebasket and moved to the door of Cameron's room. She eased the door open just enough to see in.

The single light high on the wall cast a soft glow. There were two figures on the bed, Jonathan having apparently decided that a chair wasn't going to be close enough. Cameron must have moved over to let him up. Kay felt a tightness in her throat that could have been euphoria or grief. After everything he had suffered he could be so open and accepting; Jonathan could slip past the trauma, the terror, the violation…and had curled, curved himself up against his twin. They lay, both sleeping – or one sleeping and one watching over – so close she couldn't tell where one ended and the other began, mirrors to each other, and Cameron looked more peaceful than he had since he'd been brought in.

Backing out of their private space, she glanced down at a chair someone had pulled over beside the door. Exhaling slowly, she sat and eyed the nurses' station, the corridor down to the elevators. An orderly wrestled with a finicky cart. A custodian pushed a mop down the already gleaming floors. The hospital was hunkering down for a rest; most of her team sat close by drinking coffee and keeping watch. Behind her, one damaged soul slept safely in the care of another, and as darkness claimed the city again she could feel her own heart finally begin to lighten.

To be continued

Note: Thanks again!

Second note: just had another family member sign the Renew Deception petition! I'd forgotten the number of family members (a) I actually have, and (b) who also started watching the show on my recommendation. While there's little I can do about point (a), point (b) has come in handy when I want to encourage someone to pester ABC with programming feedback or email some unsuspecting network dude about this. If they listen to us and renew, I'm taking much of the credit. My clan is large and has the gift of 'annoying.'


	22. Chapter 22: Epilogue

Epilogue

"I can't believe we have to just step aside like that." Mike flipped the file cover closed and looked over the pile of witness statements on his desk. "I guess we can put all this away."

Kay snorted and shoved her pen back into the holder with unnecessary force. "That's what happens when you're the son of a sitting Congresswoman. You get to pretty much choose who investigates you." She glanced up and her scowl was immediately replaced by a grin. "Hey," she said, rising and moving around the side of her desk.

Mike turned and flashed a smile as well. "Cameron! Good to see you."

Cameron ducked his head and smiled in return. "Sorry to drop in unannounced," he said, shrugging one shoulder. "Just thought I'd check if we had a case."

"I thought you had an appointment," Kay said delicately, studying him. After six days in hospital being rehydrated and monitored for after-effects of the overdose, and another three weeks of general rest at the Archive, the illusionist was starting to regain some of the weight he'd lost in captivity. Counis had fed him well enough, and by Cameron's account had even cooked gourmet meals from time to time. But stress, fear, pain and the drugs had been a more potent force. Counis had, apparently, treated the weight loss as a sign of ingratitude or even defiance. Kay shivered at the thought that Cameron had faced retribution for it.

Quirking an eyebrow so that he looked almost as cocky and casual as she remembered him, Cameron met Kay's eye. "Therapy isn't a four-letter word, Kay," he replied. "Actually, it's a seven-letter word." He shrugged again. "Dr. Mitchell's out sick, so I have some free time."

She nodded. "Did Gunter drive you?"

"Yup. And he's gone off to buy some new screws. His are all coming loose."

Mike blinked and chuckled. "I'm gonna tell him you said that, Man."

Cameron's smile widened. "Go for it. Oh, and guess what I found?" Digging into his pants pocket, he pulled out his FBI Consultant ID and dangled it in front of the agents. "You obviously missed your chance to hire another magician." His hand trembled slightly as he stuffed the credentials back in the pocket.

Kay bit her lip. The doctors had wanted to wean Cameron off the drugs slowly to ease withdrawal symptoms, but he'd insisted on a clean break from anything that made him feel like he was still someone's doped up prisoner. They'd backed down, recognizing that autonomy was what he needed most. Even after the critical first week had passed and they'd been assured the risk of tachycardia, seizures and life-threatening fever was over, he had still struggled with tremors, insomnia and anxiety – all of which could also be pinned on what that animal had put him through.

"So," Mike put in. "You came at just the right time, because we don't have a case, let alone a Deception Group case."

"No?" Cameron replied, assuming a worried frown. "You sure you're not just trying to get rid of me? Maybe hiring a new magician after all?"

It felt too soon for jokes, and Kay couldn't think of a witty retort. At the edge of her vision she saw Mike shift.

"We made an offer to Criss Angel, but he turned us down."

Kay saw Cameron startle but quickly recover and turn toward the new voice. Deakins stood, arms folded, just outside her office. She eyed Cameron up and down and then nodded; Kay assumed she was satisfied by what she saw.

"Seriously?" Cameron squeaked. "You made an offer to _Mindfreak?_ That would make your closure rate go down, not up."

"Are you under the impression that you've brought our closure rate up, Mr. Black?" Deakins asked sternly.

Mike coughed into his fist to hide a laugh, and Kay pressed her lips together while Cameron eyed the ceiling as if looking for a smart comeback or a way out of the conversation.

Her lips quirking, Deakins walked over and motioned toward Cameron's pocket. "Those credentials? They're yours. When you're ready, we expect you back here." She leaned a fraction closer to him; Cameron, his brow wrinkling quizzically, leaned in as well. "I believe," Deakins said, "you still owe us paperwork."

That was it. Mike snickered and turned back to his files, and Kay released the breath she'd held as she saw Cameron relax with the gentle teasing.

Cameron straightened and considered it, his face serious but a spark in his eyes that hadn't been there for a while. He turned, looking over the office, the quiet buzz of activity, and finally back to Kay. He nodded. "I owe you a lot more than that."

End

Please check out the continuation of this story in the sequel, _Returned_. Coming soon to a fanfiction board near you. (Or this board.) But it will be a few days before I get anything done on it, as this is our Canada Day long weekend and I'm headed out for a road trip. No technology allowed.

PS: I made no money off this. Sadly. All characters still belong to Chris Fedak, and he's going to need them for when we succeed in convincing SOMEONE that Deception deserves a full 11-season run. Or 12 seasons, maybe, if 11 isn't enough to wrap things up. Over on the petition site I just read several more comments from angry fans…they're busy writing more emails! If ABC gets tired of being spammed through their programming feedback site, they can always make it stop by renewing the show….


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